Second Chance
by JellieMonkeh
Summary: Centuries after the Savior-King has become little more than legend, the peace of the worlds is shattered by a series of murders. Detective Joan Kelley follows the trail of bodies to the Eastern Star, where she partners with the egotistical private detective, Nobu Okatsu, and discovers a centuries-old grudge that threatens the lives of her and those she loves. (Summary Updated)
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes:**

Hello all! I normally post my ANs at the end so people can jump straight to the story, but I wanted to add one at the beginning of this first chapter so you can have a bit of an introduction.

This story has been eating away at me for years, ever since the release of Nobunaga the Fool, and the ending left a perfect opening for us fans to continue it. This story follows almost immediately after the end of the show. Keep in mind that the names aren't exactly like they were in the show. The mains are fairly similar, but many of them are different. It's a reincarnation story, so it doesn't really make sense that they would have the exact same names as their previous lives. Plus, it makes it a little fun to see if you all can guess who some of the people are!

To my For Love readers, don't worry, this story won't impact my updates for that story!

Please enjoy the first chapter is a beast (35 pages on my Drive).

 **Summary:**

Centuries after the Savior-King has become little more than legend, the peace of the worlds is shattered by a series of murders. Detective Joan Kelley follows the trail of bodies to the Eastern Star, where she partners with the egotistical private detective, Nobu Okatsu, and discovers a centuries-old grudge that threatens the lives of her and those she loves. (Summary Updated - because I'm an idiot who forgot to updated when posting.)

 **Disclaimer:**

This will only appear once. I do not own Nobunaga the Fool.

 **Author's Soundtrack:**

No Harm by Editors (Beginning)

Bound by Indiana (Club)

Murder Cries by Snow Ghosts (Hotel)

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

She could stare at the painting for hours. Every inch of the massive canvas contained some fascinating detail hidden in the heavy layers of paint, in the choice of vibrant color, in the thick and hurried brushstrokes. There was great care and love put into it, and yet there was also desperate urgency. This was a story the painter wanted to tell but was running out of time - as if he knew it would be his last act before death claimed him.

"The Last Supper" was an appropriate title, for it was his last.

And who were the people in it? What did they mean to him? Why were they gathered? Why had he all but destroyed two of them, giving art historians centuries of debates and thesis topics, and art restorationists mind numbing headaches?

She eyed the man slowly drawing his sword and the other in the center. There was a conflict there, though the one in the center seemed extraordinarily unaware of it, smiling smugly as if the world was his. People laughed and fought around him, and yet there was no concern, no curiosity, just pure ego. Placed at the center of the composition indicated he was supposed to be the leader, but why was he not uniting those around him? Instead, they only seem more divided.

"Joan, how much longer do you plan on staring at that thing?"

Joan pursed her lips and tore her eyes from the painting. Her friends were standing near the exit of the exhibit, impatiently waiting for her to join them. Without a doubt, they'd walked through the large room in five minutes and decided their phones were far more entertaining than the history that surrounded them. She considered telling them to go on without her. They would only rush through the rest of the museum, skipping over anything of interest, and gun for the courtyard to stare at the boys from other schools.

Because that's what field trips were all about, apparently.

As tempting as it was to leave them to their own devices and continue looking through the museum at her own pace, the amount of trouble they could get it in was concerning. And, knowing the two of them, she would somehow end up having to deal with the aftermath. It was best she be there to stop anything before it could truly start.

"I'll be right there," she said with a defeated sigh.

Turning away from the painting, she nearly ran directly into a tall mass of black. Stopping short, Joan looked up into the handsome face of an Eastern Star student. His light brown hair parted just above his left eye, revealing an unusual patch of black. The strange color of his red eyes was fierce, burning like hot embers from a blazing fire, and his lips were curled in an amused smirk. Joan suddenly realized she was staring.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you," she quickly apologized.

After a hesitant pause, she quickly bowed in an attempt to respect his culture. When she straightened she caught him studying her, his eyes traveling from her uniform brown shoes, over her grey jumper, to her golden blonde hair. Her cheeks flushed at his intense gaze, at first from embarrassment at being brazenly stared at, and then from annoyance. Not only was he refusing to accept or even acknowledge her apology, but now he was leering at her.

Why she expected men of this world to be different than her own, she had no idea.

With a huff, she pardoned herself and walked around him, having little desire to remain in his presence - especially when she heard one of his compatriots make a comment about her "assets".

"Who was that?" Amelia asked as Joan joined them. Leaning to the left, then right, to try and get a better look at the boy through the crowd.

"How should I know?" Joan refused to spare the creep a backwards glance.

"Maybe we should stick around for a little bit longer," Elisa giggled, her cheeks flushed.

Joan glared at her friends, irritated by their sudden interest in remaining in the exhibit. Of course they would want to stay now that they'd found a good looking boy to gawk at. But there was no way she was going back into the room, lest her own presence be misunderstood.

Slipping her arms through both of theirs, Joan started to pull them away. Amelia gave a hard jerk, nearly pulling Joan to the floor.

"He's looking over here!" Elisa nearly screeched with joy at Amelia's declaration. Joan rolled her eyes. If only they were as excited about the museum.

"I'm leaving you two here to ogle," Joan declared. "I'll be sure to inform Mr. Pendra why you're late getting to the bus."

"Oh don't be such a spoil sport," Amelia grumbled. "We've still got plenty of time-"

"But I thought we were going to stop by the gift shop," Elisa recalled.

If there was one thing Joan could rely on her friends for, it was their addiction to shopping. At least the only trouble they could get into there was spending too much money, and that was a concept neither of them could comprehend.

"Fine," Amelia caved, guiding them through the next exhibit. "Although I don't know if there'll be anything worthwhile. Why did we even have to come to this place? We're on the Eastern Star. There's _got_ to be something more exciting and culturally relevant for us to do than visiting old museums."

Elisa nodded in agreement as Amelia preached. Joan tried to catch a glimpse of another piece of artwork, but Amelia was dragging her along at a bracing pace.

"I'm sure that's exactly what your parents are paying the academy for, shopping extravaganzas on a different planet," Joan remarked blithely.

Normally, she would have placated Amelia's braggart tendencies with detached affirmation, but as they passed yet another interesting piece without so much as pausing to feign interest, Joan found her capacity for appeasement dampened.

Amelia's parents could afford for their daughter to waste her time and their money, but Joan's education relied on her dedication to her studies to keep her scholarships. One misstep and she could say goodbye to her college career.

The difference in her status from her friends had never bothered Joan. From the beginning she knew where she stood in the world. The world certainly made it clear enough to her, but it was a testament to how kind Amelia and Elisa truly were, ignoring society's hierarchy to befriend her. Their relationship with Joan held no benefits for them, except, perhaps, a driving force for logic when it was missing. They were truly her friends, valuing her as a person and ignoring everything else.

Sometimes, it felt like they ignored it a little too much.

As if reading her mind, Amelia pouted and gave her arm a comforting squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Joan. I know this trip is important to you, but that's all the more reason I'm annoyed. How can you fully enjoy this experience if all they do is limit us to 'school approved' locations?"

The manipulation was easy to see. With her doe-green eyes, innocent smile, and blinding charisma, Amelia could wrap an entire office building full of narcissistic lawyers around her finger. Joan was certainly not immune. There was just something about Amelia that was charming and made you want to trust every word she said. She would do amazing things with her family's company once she took over.

Seeing Joan weaken against her assault, Amelia happily carried on with Elisa, discussing different methods they could use to sneak away from the teachers and where they should go, naming places she was certain Joan would want to visit. Joan tuned them out in an attempt to bolster her will in the face of making poor decisions, and instead focused on absorbing as much of the museum as she could.

Amelia wasn't wrong. Joan desperately wanted to experience the Eastern Star, and this school trip was the only way she would be able to do it. And who knew when, or if, she would come back. She hated to admit it, but she didn't hate the idea of seeing more than just the museums and tourist sites they were scheduled to visit for the rest of the trip.

For years she stared up at the mass of deep blue, wondering what it was like to stand on its surface. Her parents couldn't afford to take time off work for a long weekend, let alone the expenditure of an off-world visit. _Advanced World Culture_ was a class known for its annual trip to the Eastern Star and her only opportunity to see a new world. Two weeks of immersive lessons on the neighboring planet, fully paid by the school through tuition fees and donations.

Many made the mistake of thinking it was a free vacation from school, but it was anything but that. Not only were the students required to visit specific sites, complete assignments, and follow a strict itinerary, but because of the duration of the trips, students also had to keep up with their other coursework. The grueling workload was difficult for many. Notre Dame Academy hadn't earned its sterling reputation for nothing. Of course, that didn't mean they weren't susceptible to bribery.

Students like Amelia usually coasted on their parent's financial donations to get them through the school year. The Academy was more than willing to ignore a few bad grades as long as they continued to receive financial backing. Which was why the Academy loved the trip and continued to encourage students to sign up. Though they spun it as an excellent opportunity for students to learn and experience another culture, they lived for the tumbling grades that resulted in higher donations to offset some of the damaged report cards.

It seemed devious and manipulative, but that was the world they lived in. It wasn't a good personality that earned you respect, but the way you negotiated a deal.

Joan tried to focus on an elegant watercolor collection, but Amelia and Elise were determined to see what expensive things they could find in the gift shop. At least some of the money would go towards maintaining the museum.

After nearly an hour spent giving her, mostly ignored, opinion on jewelry, they exited the building and began to make their way towards the bus. The massive courtyard was filled with students. The gray of their own uniforms stuck out like a pretentious noble at a peasant dance. The uniforms of the Eastern Star were vibrant blues, reds, and greens. Even the black uniform that boy she'd run into had an interesting pop of purple edging the trim of their blazers.

"Boo! He isn't here."

"Who?" Joan asked Amelia, trying to figure out how to best navigate their way through the crowd.

"That guy you ran into earlier, the Eastern Star guy." Amelia jumped up onto one of the ledges of a large planted area.

"Seriously?" If Joan rolled her eyes any harder she was sure they would dislodge from her head.

"I recognize that look. Who's the poor soul who's caught her attention this time?"

Joan turned and immediately smiled when she saw Caeden standing beside her. His usual, debonair smirk was in place, his white hair falling into his blue eyes in that casual messy look that seemed to be popular at the moment.

Joan liked Caeden. Even with all his money and his lavish upbringing, he was rather down to earth. Kinder than most, with an odd sense of humor that Joan couldn't help but enjoy. He was a little arrogant once and awhile, but not to the point of earning her ire. In the end, he was a good person who didn't care about her background. Like Amelia and Elisa, he was more interested in who she was as a person rather than how much money her parents made in a year.

Unfortunately, he and Amelia were a. . . thing. They weren't officially dating, but they had been raised together, their families very good friends. And in their world, that immediately meant they were being groomed for one another. There was nothing official, but the school rumor mill loved to pair them off, claiming each moment alone was where they expressed their true feelings for one another. The social rumor mill expected a marriage for financial and social benefits. Neither of them talked about it, and Joan never asked. But there were moments Joan noticed the way the looked at one another, when they thought no one was looking. Despite their casual indifference, there was something there, and Joan wasn't going to get in the middle of it. She was just as happy to have him as a friend.

"We saw this really cute Eastern Star guy earlier," Elisa explained happily.

Caeden chuckled. "Now you have to conquer the Eastern Star?"

Amelia flicked him off. "Don't act high and mighty. I bet my month's allowance you've been eye banging some of these girls."

Caeden only smiled, but Joan thought she saw some kind of flicker in that practiced gaze that made her heart thrum.

"What do you even plan on doing if you find him?" Joan wondered aloud, stomping down the unexpected reaction and letting her exasperation seep through. Amelia grinned and her eyes grew dark, like a predator imagining it's next delicious meal.

"Oh, I have a few ideas."

"Careful, Amelia," Elisa said with a playful grin, "I think some of your usual tactics are outlawed here."

"I'm sure our Amelia could talk her way out of an execution," Caeden said, his smile still in place. "But, I'd rather not spend the rest of the trip explaining to your parents why I didn't bother putting a stop to your antics."

"God, you're just as much of a buzz kill as Penny Prude over there," Amelia rolled her eyes and stuck her hand out. Caeden took it and helped her off on the planter, guiding her through the crowd. Joan and Elise followed closely behind.

She watched the pair of them walk and talk, maneuvering around the people without a misstep or stumble. Annoyingly, she wondered what it would be like to be there beside him, to hear her whisper in her ear. As quickly as the intrusive thought occurred, she beat it back. There were other things that needed her focus, like navigating the growing crowd.

Now that the day was nearly over, all the other schools were preparing to leave, increasing the number of people in the courtyard. Someone in a hurry fell into Elisa, nearly knocking her to the ground. Joan caught her by the elbow and managed to keep her on her feet, and then she was ripped from her grasp as someone else bumped into them. Joan tied to catch up, but there were too many people. Soon, the others were out of sight.

The bus wasn't far, but people were beginning to pack the space, making it nearly impossible to maneuver. With a concerted effort, Joan managed to find gaps and squeeze her way through. And then she stumbled into a large open circle, nearly completely void of people.

Nearly.

There were two high school boys dressed those black uniforms trimmed with purple. One of them gripped the other in a headlock and drove his fist into his gut a few times. Joan winced with each impact, a phantom memory pounding into her own stomach. The crowd cheered enthusiastically. Most of the spectators dressed in the same school uniform.

They cried for more, like the bloodthirsty spectators who used to watch gladiators fight and die in the ancient Coliseum. Joan felt her stomach churn as another fist was buried into the boy's stomach. Unable to watch the beating anymore, Joan tried to push her way back into the crowd. It was cowardly, to let the poor soul get a pounding without trying to offer some kind of help, but getting involved would only cause more trouble than she was willing to deal with. She wasn't Amelia or Elisa. There were no powerful parents to bail her out or bribe officials.

The people in front of her cringed and recoiled, and Joan dared to look back. The boy who was being beaten was now on his knees, curled in on himself as he emptied his stomach. His attacker rolled his head, ridding his muscles of their tension and exposing his face.

It was the boy from earlier, that smug smile still on his face as sweat glistened off his olive-toned skin in the sunlight. Amelia would have been jealous.

Joan would have given anything to switch places with her.

"Had enough?" He asked the boy on the ground. The crowd cheered and chanted, their voices drowning out the victim's answer. Whatever he said, it only served to piss Amelia's new love interest off. His handsome face contorted into one of pure revulsion and he kicked him in the gut. The victim rolled onto his side, coughing violently as blood splattered on the concrete.

Trouble or not, she couldn't stand by as blood was drawn. This was wrong, and even if the crowd was against her, she was going to put a stop to it before irreparable damage was done.

Taking a deep breath, Joan marched into the middle of the circle. The crowd quieted, soft murmurs of curiosity and confusion floating about like the low hum of electricity. The bully turned, shocked as she planted herself between him and the boy on the ground.

"What do you think you're doing?" He demanded, his bewilderment short lived.

"Putting a stop to this." Joan was relieved her voice came out steady and stern.

He snarled. "You're sticking your nose in business that isn't yours."

"Considering your 'business' is taking place on public property, in front of a public building, I would argue that I have every right to get involved."

Someone called for her to "take her pale, Western ass home to the Red where she belonged." Her classmates might have been offended, but Joan had heard far worse all her life. If they wanted to wound her with words, they were going to have to try a lot harder.

Unlike the crowd, the bully was suddenly more amused than angry.

"Fair enough," he replied with a charming smirk. She'd seen similar smiles before, thrown about by her classmates like dull weapons, but this was on a whole other level. The stuttering flutter in her chest was startling and revolting. Only one other person made her feel this way, and he was on an entirely different level than this boy.

"If the public cares to know," he continued, addressing everyone around them. Some of them snickered, as if knowing what was coming. "That sniveling parasite you're protecting attacked one of our classmates not too long ago, after stalking her for several weeks. Somehow, he got it into his tiny little shit of a head that she was his. Since he couldn't get to her at school or at home, he figured she'd be an easier target during a school trip."

The smile fell and the bully glowered at the boy on the ground. "He was wrong and now I'm teaching him what happens when you don't take 'no' for an answer."

The applause was ear shattering. They called for her to move and allow the punishment to continue, but she didn't budge. Who was he to administer justice? What gave him the right to decide how someone should be punished? She didn't see a savior in this boy, only a tormentor with an excuse. She didn't sympathize with the victim, didn't pity him. What he did was wrong, and he deserved punishment, but not this way.

The bully studied her with some curiosity. "Aren't you going to move?"

"Because the crowd demands it?"

He scoffed. "And maybe your conscience."

"My conscience demands he be dealt with by the proper authorities. He wears your uniform, call your-"

A bony arm wrapped around her neck and pressed hard against her throat, cutting off her words. Behind her, the beaten boy squirmed unpleasantly, leaving her with the need to scrub her skin until it bled. The crowd was silent. The ruffian made a noise similar to a growl and started to lunge at them, but halted when the boy pressed on her throat harder, causing her to choke and gasp for air.

"What are you doing, Yamato?" He demanded of her captor. "You're surrounded by an angry mob and you threaten the only idiot who came to your rescue?"

Despite her predicament, Joan managed to glare at him.

"You think you're better than me, Nobu?" Yamato spat. "I saw you eye fucking this piece of ass all day." Joan felt a greedy hand pawing at her breast, giving it a rough squeeze. Joan fumed. "How does it feel to have what you want taken from you right before your very eyes?"

"Ridiculous."

The groping ceased. She imagined Yamato looked just as confused as Nobu by her strained remark, giving her the perfect opening. With a great deal of force, Joan slammed her heel down onto the top of Yamato's foot. Her shoes were weaponized with a thick heel, causing maximum damage to his in-step. He immediately released his hold on her with a cry of pain, but she wasn't finished with him. Grabbing hold of his fleeing wrist, Joan wrenched and twisted it behind his back like a pretzel. With a slight application of pressure, he was on his knees.

The crowd watched in stunned awe as Joan loosened her tie with her free hand and wrapped it around his wrists like shackles. Thank goodness she had a spare in her luggage back at the hotel. The last thing she wanted was a demerit for being out of uniform.

Satisfied with the makeshift restraints, Joan gave a nod of approval and straightened. "I suggest next time you keep your hands to yourself, unless given permission, lest you lose one entirely."

Turning her attention to Nobu, she refrained from smirking. He looked caught between being angry, amused, and shocked.

"As I was saying, before I was rather rudely interrupted," Joan said, tenderly rubbing her sore throat, "instead of beating him to a bloody mass and giving him an argument for reducing his punishment, I suggest you report him to your teachers or the police."

Having said her piece, Joan bowed her head and made her way to the edge of the circle. Thankfully, people separated, allowing her to easily pass.

"Since you're being so gracious with your advice, what should I do if no one does anything?"

People stopped moving, curious to hear her answer.

She wasn't sure if he was mocking her or not, but it was a valid question nonetheless. She wasn't familiar with legal procedures on the Eastern Star, but on the Western Star, it wasn't uncommon for people to get away with atrocious acts for various reasons. As much as she wanted to leave matters to those in charge, there were times when even they weren't enough.

"If all available avenues have failed you, then you have no choice but to take matters into your own hands." She cast a glance over her shoulder and he laughed.

The public humiliation over, the crowd began to disperse. Nobu and a few other of his classmates hoisted Yamato to his feet and dragged him off. There was a very good chance he wouldn't make it to the police without a few more bruises.

"Joan!" Caeden hurried over to her, pushing through the people as they left. His expression was an appealing mix of confusion and worry as he grabbed onto her shoulders. "Are you okay? I heard a commotion was going on and that a girl had been caught in the middle of it."

"And you assumed that since I'm such a troublemaker, it was me?" She said with an amused smile.

He didn't laugh or smile like she hoped. "Of course not, but we couldn't find you, and Amelia thought she saw someone with blond hair in the center of the crowd. We were worried. . ."

Joan felt her cheeks warm and turned her gaze away. "I appreciate you all looking out for me. The situation's been dealt with. Everything is fine."

Caeden stared at her and she wondered if there was something on her face. "So you _were_ mixed up in all this."

Damn. Joan's face grew hot and Caeden suddenly laughed. Throwing his arm around her shoulders, he guided her towards the bus. She wasn't sure if she should be angry at his little trap or embarrassed about being caught so easily.

Joan fell into the open seat beside Amelia. Her friend's silence was immediately suspicious. Turning, Amelia's intense stare was boring holes into her. It was clear she wanted to know what happened, and that no detail should be spared. Joan wasn't entirely she was in the mood for sharing, feeling very tired and longing to be back at the hotel for a hot shower and some food.

As soon as the bus was on the highway, Elisa popped her head over the top of the seat in front of them and stared. Amelia leaned in close. They waited, but Joan gave them nothing.

And then they began their game of mind melding, reading one another's thoughts without actually speaking. Joan had always been intrigued, never having bonded with someone to the point of knowing what the other was thinking. Joan was envious - when it wasn't being used against herself.

Eventually, the two seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, and returned to their seats.

It was unnerving. Neither of her friends were known for their leniency when it came to getting what they wanted. They were like wolves, chasing and wearing down their prey with little jabs and nips until it collapsed from exhaustion. It was a tactic she'd seen many times, and no one was safe from it. So why switch it up?

What was it they were up to? Clearly they wanted to know what happened, so why not pester her? Were they jumping to their own conclusions? That thought was terrifying. Who knew what crazy scenarios they'd imagined. And what would they do with that information?

She hated this new tactic of theirs.

"What do you want to know?" She asked with a defeated sigh.

Elisa's head reappeared and Amelia was practically bouncing.

"What happened after we got separated?" Elisa asked. "Amelia said she saw you in the center of a crowd."

"It looked like you were in the middle of a fight," Amelia clarified, though she hardly sounded concerned.

"I'm fine, by the way," Joan said mockingly.

Amelia waved her off. "Please, we all know you are more than capable of defending yourself. I'd be more worried about the person you were facing."

It was true, but that was beside the point.

"It was me," Joan admitted, "Your new romantic interest was publicly punishing a lecher-"

"With his fists?" Amelia nearly swooned.

"And his feet," Joan remarked, unimpressed by the way Amelia smiled.

"That had to be quite the sight." Amelia fanned herself. "Bad boys with good hearts are so hott!"

Joan stared at her. "Right. . . he's quite the catch."

"You don't like him," Elisa observed, giving her the side eye. "Did he insult you or something?"

Joan hated how astute Elisa could be. Her lackadaisical demeanor gave the false impression she was an utter airhead who latched onto Amelia. She didn't have Amelia's charisma or stunning beauty, so her strategy was based around appearing dimwitted. It was surprisingly effective. It was amazing what people revealed when they thought you were an idiot.

"I just think his arrogance is a little unwieldy and that his 'kindness' is really just a mask for his cruelty."

"What's your basis?"

When Nobu was beating the stalker there at been a familiar spark of glee in his eyes. With every strike of his fist that spark grew brighter. When she'd first run into him he appeared stoic and in control, but when he was "punishing" his classmate - it looked like the best day of his life. Joan had seen those looks before, been on the receiving end too many times. For now, he was considered the better person, but what happened when there wasn't someone who gave him a good enough release to get that release he needed?

Amelia and Elisa were intelligent in their own right, but they couldn't truly understand. They'd led good, happy lives where the only dangers were their servants burning their tea. It wasn't fair assessment on her part. More than anyone, she knew that outer appearances didn't necessarily reflect the truth, but she could recognize the signs. She was glad this was one thing they couldn't comprehend.

"Nothing, I suppose," she said after a minute. "Maybe it's just my imagination."

Neither of them were convinced. Joan wasn't prone to fabricating things, but Elisa wasn't one to push too hard and Amelia knew her limits. They were kind enough to shift the conversation to more mundane topics until they reached the hotel.

Amelia and Elisa were assigned to a different hotel room, giving Joan a pleasant reprieve from Amelia's boundless energy. The girls Joan shared a room with were more than happy to leave her to her own devices.

After dinner and a class meeting, the students were dismissed for bed. Joan's roommates were asleep before the chaperones made their rounds, calling for lights out. Joan, however, stayed up a bit longer to complete some of her assignments.

As she finished up, she received a text message. Her classmates found her old, hand-me-down flip phone a constant source of amusement, but Joan was happy enough with it. It served her needs well enough. A smartphone would have been nice, but she simply couldn't justify the cost.

Checking the message, Joan groaned quietly. Instead of responding it, she closed it and started to prepare for bed.

She froze when she heard a light knock on the door. There was no doubt who was on the other side, and she contemplated ignoring it. Nothing good would come from opening that door.

When the knocking grew louder, threatening to wake her roommates, Joan silently cursed and hurried to open it. Amelia stood on the other side, beaming brightly.

"Did you get my message?" She asked in a hushed whisper, barging into the room. She spotted Joan's phone on the hotel desk and grabbed it. Joan ignored the grimace on her face as she touched the outdated piece of technology.

"Why bother sending it if you were just going to show up at my door anyway?"

Amelia shrugged and Joan rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm not going."

Amelia pursed her lips and gave her a disapproving look.

"I would think you, of all people, would want a chance to explore more of the city."

"You're surprised I won't break the rules and risk getting suspended? This is me we're talking about. If I get three strikes they'll take my scholarship."

"Oh please," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "That's just an empty threat. You're their ideal student. You make them look good and the academy is all about looking good."

"That's. . . not the point," Joan sighed. "Sneaking out of the hotel to go explore a strange city? That's bold, even for you. And dangerous. We have no idea where we're going or what's safe."

"Don't be such a worry wart. We'll be fine."

Not giving her any other opportunities to argue, Amelia grabbed Joan by the arm and dragged her out of the room. Elisa was waiting in the hall, keeping an eye out for chaperones. Joan stopped arguing until they got to the elevator, not wanting to get caught in the middle of her kidnapping. By the time they reached the lobby, Joan had given up convincing Amelia to stay. Once the little heiress had something on her mind, there was no stopping her. She was going out, one way or another - and she was taking Joan with her.

They were free and clear as soon as they passed through the hotel doors and were sitting in the back of a taxi. Their first stop was a store. The clothes Amelia and Elisa were wearing simply wouldn't do, apparently. The shop should have been closed, but with the cards Amelia was flashing, there was no way the commission-based retailer was going to turn them away. Joan waited patiently for them to finish choosing their new clothes and shoes, using Amelia's phone to do some research on the Last Supper painting and its artist, Leonardo Da Vinci.

Much to her annoyance, before she learned anything beyond the basics, Amelia was dragging her into the changing room and stuffing her into something she was convinced could not possibly be a dress. Strapless and with a hem that barely covered her nether regions, Joan was confident sitting would be impossible. To top it off, they gave her a pair of ridiculous red Stilettos. Was it really necessary for heels to be that high?

"Don't fuss," Amelia commanded as they stepped outside the shop, the retailer grinning happily as she locked the door behind them.

Joan fought to pull on the hem of the dress down by at least half an inch. "I can't help it. If you were going to force me to change, you could have at least gotten something that would cover. . . everything!"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Please. You have the assets, might as well flaunt them while you can."

Joan glowered at her friend. She wanted to do nothing of the kind. She was perfectly content in her much more conservative, and comfortable, clothes.

"We're going to be late," Elisa informed them, taking a look at her phone for the time.

"Late for what?" Joan asked, not liking the secretive smirks her friends were sharing as they dragged her into a cab. They continued to evade her questions until the cab pulled up to a club. The words "Cherry Blossom" were written out in pink neon script and a long line of patrons extended from the entrance and down the block.

A boy approached them as they stepped out of the cab. Joan struggled to keep from flashing everyone waiting in line.

"What took you guys so long?" he asked, grin plastered in place.

"We had chaperones to dodge, dresses to buy, and Joan to deal with the entire way," Amelia explained easily.

Joan was furious.

"You're risking my scholarship to meet up with a boy?"

Amelia sighed. "Give it a rest, Joan. Your precious scholarship is safe. I'll see to it. Just enjoy seeing a side of the Eastern Star our school can't show you!"

"A club?" Joan asked, unconvinced.

Amelia took a deep breath and turned to Joan. Her usual smile was gone and her expression serious. "Look, if you're that worried about it, I'll pay for the cab to take you back to the hotel right now. Elisa and I are staying."

Taking the boy's arm, they approached the bouncer at the entrance. Elisa hesitated, giving Joan a begging glance. Joan cursed, heaving a burdened sigh. Amelia would make a brilliant CEO in the future. Even when she wasn't using her charm she could manipulate people into doing what she wanted.

Linking arms with a relieved Elisa, they walked into the club.

Inside it was dark with shafts of brightly colored lights dancing across the synthetic fog in a hypnotic pattern. Shadows swayed, moving with the heavy bass that shook every inch of her. Elisa guided her towards a set of stairs near the back, leading to a raised platform about five feet in the air. Another bouncer guarded the entrance, eying them suspiciously. Behind him, she could see a sofa with several people relaxing and drinking. One person, in particular, caught her eye and Joan knew why Amelia had dragged them out.

"Yo! Hide! I thought you were bringing people who knew how to have fun, not a saint!" If the large man wasn't still blocking her path, Joan would have considered punching the current bane of her existence. Nobu grinned smugly, as if knowing he'd riled her up with just a few words. "Touru, let them pass!"

The human-shaped wall stepped aside and Amelia scurried up the steps, quickly settling into the spot beside Naru. Elisa found someone to speak with, abandoning Joan to her own devices. If there was one thing Joan envied, it was her friends' overwhelming confidence. They wore their clothes and makeup like armor and wielded their curves and smoldering gazes like weapons. For her, they were a nuisance and made her all the more self-conscious. All she wanted to do was melt into the shadows until it was time to leave.

"You gonna stand there all night or join us ruffians?"

Joan glowered at Nobu. She had half a mind to leave, but that meant leaving Amelia and Elisa with a group of people she knew almost nothing about. There were other girls - probably more than guys, but that didn't mean anything. Joan's friends weren't entirely powerless and they were both smart, but there were limits and situational factors. Amelia could maneuver a delicate political negotiation while drinking tea, but fight her way out of a tough spot?

Besides, Joan didn't want to give Nobu the satisfaction of thinking he had been the reason for her leaving.

Joan stepped onto the platform and quickly evaluated her options. Any seat close to Nobu was out of the question. Instead, she chose a seat that was as far from him as she could get. Another boy was sitting there, but he appeared rather somber and not nearly as obnoxious as his friend. He gave her a pitying smile, as if familiar with her plight.

"Mitsu," he leaned over and introduced himself with a soft smile and his hand. Joan easily returned it and offered her hand.

"Joan."

"I want to apologize for Nobu's behavior earlier today. He has a certain way of doing things."

Joan lifted a curious eyebrow. "May I ask how you dealt with him?"

Mitsu smirked. "I'd be lying if I said he made it to the police station without getting a few more love taps."

"There was enough evidence for them to take him immediately?" Joan asked, surprised.

"There were enough witnesses to his actions today that they can hold him until the proper paperwork is complete. At that point, we have other evidence for them to come up with more charges."

Joan nodded, pleased to hear the pervert wasn't getting off the hook. She frowned, curiosity nagging at her. "What about the girl? The one he was stalking."

Mitsu's smile faltered. "She's relieved it's over, though it took some convincing to have her hand over what evidence she still had."

"She destroyed most of it," Joan stated. Mitsu looked a little surprised, but nodded. "I'm glad she has her classmates to support her. That certainly isn't always the case."

"The Eastern Star prides itself on keeping the peace, and that's not just some line they feed us all our lives," Mitsu stated sincerely.

The music swelled, making it difficult for them to continue carrying on the conversation. Amelia had dragged Nobu to the dance pit. The heir to the Casteau family fortune and future CEO was grinding her hips on a boy she'd known for only few minutes.

What would Caeden think?

Someone shouted in her ear. Hide was asking her for something, but all she could hear was the bass. Pointing to her ears, she made it clear she hadn't heard him. His excited smile fell, and Joan felt like she'd kicked a puppy. Pulling her phone out of the small silk clutch Elisa bought her, she typed a message and held up the screen for him to read.

 _| I couldn't hear you. What did you ask? |_

Catching on, Hideo pulled out his own phone and typed a message.

 _| Wanna dance? |_

Joan cringed. Dancing wasn't her thing. Most of her nights were spent studying. The seductive swaying of hips and enticing movements of limbs were as unnatural to her as being poor was to her friends. In the end, she would only make a fool of herself. Typing an apology, Joan offered Hide an apologetic smile. He looked a little hurt, but quickly moved on to Elisa, who happily obliged.

A screen appeared in front of her face.

 _| You don't like dancing? |_

Joan looked over at Mitsu's curious expression and shrugged.

 _| 2 left feet. |_

It wasn't entirely accurate, but it got the point across. Mitsu typed up a message and Joan read it with a bit of surprise.

 _| 2 right feet. Maybe it'll balance out. |_

Joan stared at Mitsu, unsure of how to respond. She'd thought him like her, awkward and forced into spending time keeping an eye on his friends. The last thing she'd expected was a rather smooth line, especially delivered via text message.

It should have annoyed her, but instead, she found herself feeling rather flattered. Mitsu was handsome, his light blue eyes standing out against his dark hair and pale olive skin. The thought of dancing close to him, arms wrapped tightly around her, made her blush. It was tempting, but she couldn't stand the potential embarrassment. She had been the center of attention enough for one day.

As she was typing her rejection, Mitsu took a gentle hold of her wrist and pulled her from her seat. With a confident smirk, he guided her to the pit. Finding a small gap in the throng, he stopped and pulled her to him, pressing her body against his. It was a foreign sensation and not entirely unpleasant. And the close proximity of his face to hers was impossible to ignore. Her face warmed immediately, turning a violent shade of red as he slipped his arms around her waist. The heat from the crowd and Mitsu was almost overwhelming. The muscles in her stomach tightened as he guided her movements with his hands and his hips.

This was dancing with two right feet?

And then he was gone. Joan nearly stumbled forward but caught herself before she fell into a couple in front of her. Turning, she saw Nobu and Mitsu glaring at one another. Then Nobu turned that gaze on her, his red eyes aflame with - was that anger?

The emotions in his eyes were difficult to pin down. Whatever they were, they managed to freeze every inch of her and set her on fire at the same time. She couldn't decide if she wanted to give in and ride the wave or rebel.

Deciding on the latter, she turned to leave the dance floor. She didn't know why Nobu had intervened, but if Mitsu wasn't going to dance with her, then she was going back to her seat.

A strong hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her backwards. Tripping on her own feet, Joan fell back into Nobu. Another hand snaked around her torso, settling on her hips and pressing her into him. Her stomach and lower muscles clenched as Nobu pressed his lips against her ear, his breath caressing the bare skin of her neck. The sensation sent a pleasant heat racing across her skin.

Joan was furious with her body, which was determined to ignore every command she gave it. It was dangerous for her to be in this position, in more ways than one. Nobu was Amelia's - in whatever capacity that was. Encroaching on her target was a sure fire way to earn her ire, and Joan didn't want to lose one of the few friends she had.

Shaking off the daze clouding her senses, Joan managed to pull free of Nobu's hold. Before he could drag her back, she managed to make her escape. Without looking back, she pushed through the crowd in search of the door to the club.

Air. She needed air.

She burst through the door and into the warm night. Quickly she inhaled, allowing the strange mix of brine and car exhaust to penetrate her lungs.

The line of people waiting to get inside watched her with amusement, but she paid them no mind. She needed to clear her head. After a few minutes of controlled breathing, Joan tried to figure out her next steps.

Did she go back inside and risk the hell that was waiting for her? Did she ignore what happened and hope the others would do the same? Did she try to force Amelia and Elisa to go with her? Did she leave them?

No. She definitely couldn't leave them. Those people inside were complete strangers. Who knew what lengths they were willing to go to get what they wanted? She had to convince them to leave.

Opening her phone, she sent a message to Elisa, knowing full well Amelia would ignore her.

 _Joan_

 _| I know you guys want to stay and party,  
but I really think we should be heading back.  
It's nearly 1. |_

 _Elisa_

 _| Amelia won't go. Why don't you go ahead?  
I'll keep an eye on her. When she's done,  
we'll head back. |_

Joan scowled and nearly threw her phone in frustration. She couldn't just leave them, despite what Elisa said. As she started to head back in, she received another message.

 _Amelia_

 _| Seriously. It's fine. We'll be fine. You're such  
a mother hen. My own mother could take  
some notes from you. |  
_

 _ _Amelia  
_ | Do you have money for a taxi? |_

Joan sighed with a mixture of frustration and relief. Neither of her friends seemed to have lost their minds, and Elisa was making sure they got back safely. Amelia was right, she was a mother hen. Elisa and Amelia grew up in this world. Clubs were a great place for them to go. They would know how to handle themselves. They might not be able to fight, but they had a good set of pipes that could shatter glass and eardrums.

 _Joan_

 _| I'm good. I'll text you when I get back. |_

 _Amelia_

 _| Damn straight. Get some sleep so you can  
fuss over us tomorrow. ) |_

Stepping up to the curb, Joan summoned a cab. Slipping into the back, she gave him the hotel name. Before he drove away, he asked if she was paying with cash or credit.

"Cash," she replied.

"It'll be $15. You got that on you?"

Joan frowned. The cab driver earlier hadn't asked for money up front.

"I get a lot of drunks coming out without an ounce of cash on them," the cabbie explained. "I need to check to make sure you've got the money up front."

It made sense, she supposed. Opening the clutch, Joan reached for the cash - that she just realised she'd never grabbed. Amelia had snatched her away so quickly, it was lucky she'd even managed to grab her hotel key card. Giving the cabby an apologetic glance, she climbed awkwardly out of the cab. $15 wasn't a lot. It was an amount she was comfortable enough asking Amelia or Elisa for, especially since she had it back at her room.

Sending her friend a text, she waited for Amelia to answer. After ten minutes of waiting, she texted Elisa.

No answer from her either. If they were on the dance floor, it was unlikely they would hear or feel their phones. So much for avoiding going back in.

Swallowing her pride, Joan turned and approached the bouncer. He held up a hand for her to stop.

"You gotta wait in line."

"I was just in there."

"Don't matter."

Joan narrowed her eyes. "You didn't mind letting me in earlier."

"That was then. This is now."

Joan eyed the long line. A few of the people at the front were glaring at her, daring her to try and cut.

"Unless. . ." The sleazy stare he was giving her nearly made her shiver.

"I'm not giving you a show," she spat at him in disgust.

The bouncer sneered at her. "Fine. Then you wait in line like everyone else."

"Ridiculous!" Joan nearly screamed in frustration and turned away from the bouncer. All she wanted to do was find her friends, get some money, and take a cab back to the hotel. Resigned to her fate, Joan decided to wait out front for her friends to come out.

"Get in line or move your ass along."

Joan gaped at the bouncer. "I'm waiting for my friends."

"You're blocking the entrance."

"You're joking."

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

It didn't.

This was unbelievable. She couldn't take a cab, couldn't go inside to look for her friends, couldn't wait for them. Joan tried calling Amelia and Elisa and nearly threw her phone when they didn't answer.

The hotel was only a couple of miles away, an hour walk at most. Chances were, Amelia and Elisa would be done by that time, see her messages, and come pick her up before her feet fell off or she murdered someone for looking at her wrong.

Sending the bouncer a vicious glare, Joan began the long walk back to the hotel.

After 20 minutes of walking, she was cursing Elisa's lethal taste in shoes and Amelia's joy of exposed skin. The heels were far too high, holding her feet at an awkward angle and rubbing the skin against the stiff material. She was confident she had four blisters. And the damned hem of her dress would not. Stay. Down.

Checking the clock on her phone, she confirmed she was about half way there. Her friends had to be done partying soon. Joan contemplated staying put and waiting for them to give her a call, but the street she was on didn't look like the best place to stop. The lights were broken or completely useless, shattered bottles and trash littered the ground, and there were a few men she'd noticed lurking in the shadows.

Best to keep moving.

"Hey pretty lady. What's your price?"

The best approach to dealing with creeps was to ignore them, not get into an argument. It was better if they thought she was just a prostitute who wasn't on the clock. No one wanted to deal with a pain in the ass whore when they could get a far more willing one elsewhere.

"Hey, bitch. I'm talking to you!"

Joan continued walking, keeping note of their heavy footsteps as they followed her.

"Hey!"

The man grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her to a stop. She flinched at the bruising force he was using and hissed as she felt the skin of one of the blisters on her feet tear. Clenching her teeth, she glared at the man. He wasn't large or burly, but judging by his grip, he wasn't weak either. He swayed slightly, indicating he was drunk. Behind him was a friend who looked less mean and more drunk.

Two drunks shouldn't be a problem.

"Let go or I'll break your wrist."

Her warning earned a howl of laughter. It was no surprise they weren't taking her seriously. She looked like Hooker Barbie. What kind of threat could she possibly pose?

When he didn't release her wrist, Joan grabbed his hand with her free one and twisted with a sharp jerk. It wasn't her strength that caused the bones to snap beneath the skin, the pain forcing the thug to his knees, it was the angle and leverage. You didn't have to outweigh your opponent to incapacitate them.

"You bitch!" He screamed through the wailing sobs, clutching at his hand, the fingers dangling at an odd angle. His friend stared at him, dumbfounded.

"I warned you," she stated, and turned to leave.

"You fucking whore," his friend snarled, rolling his sleeves up with a dramatic tug. Managing to keep her eyes from rolling, Joan opted to keep some distance between them and took a step back.

The friend charged at her. He was slow and his wide swing was easy enough to dodge - if she hadn't been in heels. As she side stepped his lumbering attack, the pointed heel caught on a crack in the pavement, rolling her ankle. She sucked in a sharp breath as lightning pain shot up her leg.

The friend lunged at her again. Dodging was out of the question, unless she wanted to do more damage to her sprained ankle. Instead, Joan held her ground and deflected his fist with as little movement as possible, sending him stumbling past her. Righting himself, he charged again. Same move, same arm. Same defensive tactic. If she could wear him down, she might be able to take advantage of an opening and escape.

When the friend ran at her again, she prepared the same defense. Except this time he skipped the punch and slammed directly into her, his shoulder catching her just below the ribs and knocking the air out of her lungs. She hit the ground, the full weight of her attacker landing on top of her. The sidewalk tore into her exposed back, filling the fresh wounds with dirt and grime. She was certain there was glass as well, but she struggled to think clearly as she tried to breath. Tears stung her eyes and she tried desperately to keep the instinctive panic at bay.

The man clambered off of her, grinning sinisterly as he reached for her. She weakly slapped his hand away as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled.

"I think that bitch broke my hand!"

Joan was starting to wish she had done more.

"Fuck her up!"

Well wasn't she just having one hell of a day? Suddenly dealing with Nobu's weird behavior was looking far more appealing than the current alternative. Hindsight was 20/20.

But wallowing in "what ifs" wasn't going to help her now. She was finally able to breathe again, making planning an escape a bit easier, but her head hurt, the thug's fingers scraping along her scalp. Screaming came to mind, but as she observed the area around her with half closed eyes, she determined it wasn't uncommon for people in this particular part of town to ignore the cries of someone in need of help, and even less likely to call the police.

"I suggest you let her go or I'll break your damn arm and shove it up your friend's ass."

Nobu stood just behind the weeping man, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down her captor. In his dark button down and jeans he hardly seemed intimidating, but Joan could see that familiar glint in his eye. Here was a very good excuse for him to pummel someone without any interference, even from her.

Despite his demand and the dangerous aura Nobu was exuding, the man didn't release his hold on her. His injured friend staggered to his feet and tried to take a swing at Nobu with his good arm. It was sluggish and easy to read. Nobu leaned back to avoid the pathetic strike, and grabbed hold of his arm. Giving it a sudden jerk, the man was on the ground again, crying for his mother over his second set of broken bones.

Joan's captor threw her to the ground and targeted Nobu. She grunted as she hit the sidewalk, this time her knees and shins taking the brunt of the fall. Thankfully, there would be nothing but bruises and some shallow scratches. She didn't even want to think about what her back looked like.

When she managed to sit up, Nobu had both men unconscious on the ground. He was towering over them, looking rather disappointed his with fight.

Joan stumbled to her feet, catching herself on the wall as she lost her balance. When she looked up, Nobu was studying her.

"You alright?" He asked after a moment. One of the men groaned and Nobu gave him a swift kick to the face. "I expected to see you lay them out."

"Sorry to disappoint," she grumbled, testing her legs. Her lungs still burned as she breathed in the air, none too appreciative of the beating they'd taken. She desperately wanted to remove her shoes, but there was no telling what else was scattered on the ground, and she had enough injuries to deal with.

"One of your friends said you were getting a cab, but the bouncer said you decided to walk." She could hear the hidden question he was really asking. Why was she an idiot?

"It's not like I had a lot of options. I didn't have cash for the cab, Amelia and Elisa weren't answer their phones, and the bouncer wouldn't let me back in or wait out front unless I flashed him," she nearly shouted.

"Why didn't you flash him then?"

If only she could walk properly. She very much wanted to punch him.

"Just saying," he defended, "it would have been better than dealing with this. Or would that damage any potential prospects for you back home?"

Joan rolled her eyes. He was making it very difficult to appreciate his rescue. With nothing else to say, and no desire to argue, Joan pushed herself off the wall and started her journey back to the hotel.

Nobu grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He demanded, glowering at her with impatience.

"I'm headed back to the hotel," she stated, confused by his interference.

"Did you hit your head when they attacked you? Why the hell would you keep walking after that?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" She asked, her irritation growing. "I don't have any money for a cab, I'm already halfway there. If I'm lucky, my friends will catch me along the way."

His face contorted into something similar to disbelief. "There really is something wrong with your brain. Or is it your pride that keeps you from asking for my help?"

"What?"

Refusing to answer her, Nobu was on his phone, calling for a cab. The few minutes it took for it to arrive were quiet and tense. Joan quietly wondered if the police would arrive at any point. Nobu's snort of laughter indicated the police wouldn't be near that part of town, especially this part.

"People like to pretend the Eastern Star is the most peaceful place to live," he remarked, his eyes focused on a distant point across the street. "They're idiots."

"Is everyone an idiot in your eyes?" she asked, a bit annoyed but genuinely curious.

He glanced at her for a moment before looking away. The headlights of the cab turned the corner and he approached the street to wave it down. He opened the back door and waved for her to climb in. Much to her surprise, he slipped in behind her.

"What are you doing?"

"Take us to this address," Nobu held his phone up to the driver, ignoring Joan completely. The driver nodded and sped down the road.

"What address did you give him?" She asked suspiciously, unable to get a peek at his screen.

"My house. Calm down," he told her as she moved further away from him in the seat. "If I wanted to do something to you I would have done it a long time ago. I don't know what kind of a guy you think I am, but I have no interest in forcing myself on an unwilling woman."

Begrudgingly, she admitted to herself he had a point. He didn't have to call a cab, he didn't have to help her, he could have attacked her right after dealing with the other men or once they were done with her. Perhaps he was very good at hiding his intentions, but what she had seen of him so far indicated that he preferred acting on his whims more than thinking about them. But given the smirk playing on his lips should couldn't help but doubt.

"My mother is a nurse and can take a look at your injuries. I figure with you types, you'd want to avoid drawing too much attention by going to a hospital."

His implication was wrong, but he was right, she didn't want to deal with a hospital. They would be required to call the chaperones, and who knew what they would do to punish her.

The cab jostled and Joan hit her back on the seat, lighting her skin on fire. She sucked in her breath and tried to keep from crying out. She was certain some of the debris had been pushed deeper into the wounds.

"We're almost there."

She wasn't sure if he was trying to comfort her or just keep her informed. He was leaning on the door, watching her from the corner of his eye, his face a steel mask. Whatever he was feeling or thinking, he was keeping it well hidden.

And then he smirked.

Feeling her cheeks heat, she turned away, silently cursing herself for staring.

Thankfully, the car soon came to stop in front of a house. It wasn't large, but it was certainly bigger than her own home. It looked pleasant, set alongside similar looking homes. After helping her out of the cab and paying the driver, Nobu opened the gate out front and led her up the short path.

A woman in a long bathrobe stood just beyond the entrance, her brow knit with concern as the two of them stepped through the door.

"Hey mom," Nobu began casually, taking his shoes off at the entrance. Joan set her own shoes down, more than willing to leave them behind. "Sorry for waking you."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scowled at him. She turned her gaze to Joan, her expression softening immediately. "My poor girl. Please, come inside. We'll get you taken care of."

In the presence of Nobu's mother, Joan immediately relaxed, allowing a soft smile onto her lips as she thanked her for her assistance. She guided her down a narrow hall to small room. There was no furniture except for a bed set out on the floor. His mother motioned for her to take a seat on the futon. She asked Nobu to fetch some clothes from his sister's room and to set them outside, and then closed the door.

"Would you mind removing your dress? I'd like to take a look at all of your injuries." The clinical, yet soft nature with which Nobu's mother addressed her reminded her of being at the doctor's, making it much easier to undress in front of her.

It took a bit of work, and a little help, but they managed to slip the dress off and she began treating Joan's injuries.

Both were silent for some time, Joan mostly distracted with keeping from making too much noise. The worst was when the thick pieces of debris were being pulled from the skin, and then again when the wounds themselves were being cleaned.

"Thank you. . . for doing this. . ." Joan struggled to say, searching for a distraction as her back was treated.

"I don't always know what kind of trouble my son is getting into, but I've made it clear to my children that I will always be there for them. I was very glad to receive his message, asking for my help."

Joan was immediately envious. It wasn't that her parents didn't love her. They simply didn't have the flexibility to be available at a moment's notice. They worked hard to support her in whatever capacity they could, and Joan appreciated everything they did for her. Sometimes, though, it was nice just to be with them.

There was a soft knock on the door as Nobu's mother finished treating the injuries on her hands and feet. Nobu left a clean shirt, skirt, and shoes outside the room. When presented with them, Joan hesitated.

"I'm grateful for everything you're doing for me, but I can't take clothes from your daughter. I'm just visiting, and I don't know when or if I would be able to return them."

Nobu's mother smirked, one similar to her son's, hinting at something more than amusement. "I've considered that. My daughter has plenty of clothes. She'll be fine if she's missing a few. If she's that upset about it, then I'll deal with her, but that won't be the case. My daughter is a very kind and caring girl. Even without an explanation, she would be willing to do what she could to help you. Now, I'll help you put these on."

After being thorough dismissed, Joan accepted Nobu's mother's help in pulling on the loose tank top. At first, she'd been annoyed with Nobu's selection of the skirt, but pants would have been far worse, brushing against the clean bandages and rubbing against the wounds. The shoes were simple flats. They were a little tight, but anything was better than those weapons she'd worn.

Joan and Nobu's mother made their way back out to the hall, where Nobu was waiting, looking completely bored.

"I already called a cab. I'll take you back to the hotel."

"Really, you've done more than enough," Joan began to argue. "I already don't think I can repay-"

Both Nobu and his mother scowled at her, but it was Nobu who spoke. "Didn't we already have this conversation about stupid decisions and pride?"

"I-I just thought-"

"My dear," Nobu's mother cut in, sighing like all mother's sigh, "I understand your concern, but we are not the kind of people to just abandon others when we can help."

"If you're that worried about it," Nobu offered with a smirk, "you can-"

Nobu's mother smacked him upside the head.

"Ow! Dammit, woman!"

"Shut up. You are not blackmailing this girl. Take her back to the hotel, pay for her cab, and make sure she is through those doors before you leave."

"I was gonna!" He argued.

His mother gave him a withering stare before turning to Joan and taking her hands. "I know you don't want to cause a stir, but you will need to have the bandages changed."

"Of course. I'll figure something out."

"Good. Now, next time, make better decisions."

And with that, Nobu's mother sent them off with a pleasant smile. Once again, they were in the back of a cab, Joan fighting to keep her back from touching the seat. The bandages added a thick layer of protection, but that didn't prevent the bruised areas from hurting any less when pressed.

When they pulled up to the hotel, Joan felt exhaustion begin to overwhelm her. It was nearly 2:30 in the morning. She'd sent a message to Elisa, letting her know she was fine, but wouldn't be back at the hotel for a while. There was no return message, leaving her to wonder if they were still partying or if they'd already returned and crashed for the night.

Hand on the handle, Joan stopped before opening the door, turning to Nobu. "This whole time, I don't think I thanked you properly. We don't know each other, and our interactions haven't been pleasant-"

"Definitely feeling that gratitude," he remarked snidely.

She narrowed her eyes, but continued. "My point, is that you didn't have to help me, but you did. A lot. Thank you. Really."

He was still smirking, but instead of replying with sarcasm he simply nodded.

She opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. Before she could close the door, he called out to her.

"You gonna make it back to your room okay?"

She thought he was asking out of concern, but that smug smile was back in place and she knew he was mocking her.

"If I run into a pair of thugs along the way, I'll be sure to scream for you," she informed him curtly.

"You don't need thugs for that."

Joan immediately flushed, earning a burst of laughter from Nobu. Only her gratitude kept her from telling him off before slamming the door of the cab and marching into the lobby.

The nerve!

It wasn't a surprise the halls were quiet, especially when she reached the upper floors where her school had reserved the whole floor. Cautiously, she peeked out of the elevator to see if anyone was patrolling. When she was certain no one was coming, Joan hurried down the hall to her room. Her key card already in hand, she was able to step inside without any fuss.

Closing the door as softly as she could, Joan moved carefully through the dark room, shuffling her feet along the carpet to avoid stepping on anything. She managed to make it to her bed only tripping over a piece of luggage once. Not bothering to remove the clothes, Joan melted into the mattress as she slipped beneath the sheets. Exhaustion hit her like a freight train and left her motionless.

Frantic pounding on the door startled her out of her dreamless sleep. One of her roommates crawled out of bed, grumbling about needing a proper full eight hours of sleep. The red numbers on the hotel clock flashed 3:05AM. Joan groaned and dropped her head onto her pillow, trying to ignore the incessant pounding.

"Have you seen Joan Kelley? Is she here?" The panicked voice of one of the chaperones shot through the room, causing Joan to sit up quickly.

"I'm here."

It was difficult to see the chaperone's face, the hall light casting him in complete shadow, but his shoulder's sagged in relief.

"Good. Good. Um. . ." he hesitated. "You're close friends with Amelia Casteau and Elisa Pfeiffer, yes?"

Joan's roommate scoffed. "Is that a serious question?"

The chaperone didn't notice the snide tone in her remark. "Joan, would you please get dressed and come with me?"

Joan was already out of bed, glad she hadn't bothered to take off the clothes she had been wearing. Grabbing a pair of shoes from her bag, she slipped them on and followed the chaperone into the hall. His distress was beginning to tear at her calm. Why mention Amelia and Elisa by name? Why search for her? Had they been caught? Had something happened to them? Thoughts of worst case scenarios cluttered her mind as she followed the chaperone to the elevators.

Doors were opening and students were peeking out. Other chaperones ushered them back to their rooms, looking just as pale and tired as the one guiding her. The heavy weight of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right.

"She was in her room?" She heard someone ask as they passed.

"Yeah. I don't think she knows anything. Someone woke Caeden, right?"

"Yes. He's in the lobby with them now."

Icy tendrils worked their way from her stomach through her limbs. Why would they need to bring Caeden?

"What's going on?" She asked the chaperone as they stepped into the elevator, trying desperately to keep control of her voice. The look of pity did nothing to help her worry.

"I think it's best to wait and speak with Professor Pendra."

She didn't want to wait! This was cruel, torturous! Joan nearly attacked the man to demand answers, but the doors to the elevator slid open and the professor was already waiting for her. Rushing out of the elevator, she managed to keep herself from berating him.

"Professor, what's happening? Where are Amelia and Elisa?"

Blond brow furrowed, the professor looked at the chaperone with a steely glare, silently scolding him.

"Why don't you go back up to the rooms and help the others," the professor recommended cooly. The chaperone nodded and was quick to close the elevator doors.

Turning his attention back to Joan, the professor's gaze softened.

"Joan, please answer all of my questions honestly. I need the truth from you or I cannot help you."

Ice gripped her heart and she nodded emphatically. Something had happened. Something terrible. Something to her friends, and she would do whatever she could to help.

"Were you aware Amelia and Elisa slipped out of their rooms?"

Joan didn't want to say anything that might make their situation worse, but judging by the grim expression on the professor's face, this was beyond the concern of demerits and suspension. Still, she had to be sure.

"You promise that whatever I say won't get them into more trouble? I won't betray my friends."

The professor stiffened, his jaw clenched as his gaze fell to the floor. Before he could answer, a man turned the corner and the gravity of the situation nearly knocked her off her feet.

A stocky man dressed in the familiar trench coat of a detective was flanked by two officers, all of them pale and grim. These were men who knew tragedy and carried the weight of it with them, and tonight was no different.

"Joan!" Caeden pushed past the police and raced over to her. He caught her up in a fierce embrace. He immediately released her when she hissed with pain. Holding her at arm's length, he studied her with a terrifying amount of fear. "What is? What's wrong?"

"Miss Joan Kelley." The detective was standing beside them. His dark eyes were studying her with such intensity it sent a shiver down her spine. "We'd like to have a word with you."

"Joan's still a minor," Caeden cut in, standing in front of her like a guard. "You can't speak to her without a lawyer or guardian present."

The detective watched the pair of them, and she wondered what it was he was thinking. She just wanted to know what was going on and do what she could to help.

"Caeden," the professor cut in, sensing the growing tension. "Joan will not be speaking with them alone. I'll be with her. Detective, are you finished speaking with Mr. Julian?"

When he nodded, the professor sent Caeden back upstairs. Caeden gave her one last look of concern before she was escorted to a private room off the side of the lobby. There were police everywhere, talking to staff and a few patrons. Cars outside flashed bright blues and reds. She was glad for the silence and isolation of the small room.

"Did you know your friends left the hotel earlier this evening?" The detective asked as soon as the door was closed.

Joan looked to the professor, wondering how much she should say. When he gave her a slight nod, she replied. "Yes."

"Do you know where they went?"

"We went to a club - Cherry Blossom."

"You went with them?" He asked, his tone even, not sounding as surprised as she expected him to.

"They insisted I join them. We left in a cab, stopping by a small shop to get a change of clothes." She looked to the professor, wondering how furious he was. What she saw there was a soft and encouraging smile. No anger, just support.

"What was the name of the shop."

"Kirei. We were there for maybe an hour before we took another cab to the club."

"Were you meeting anyone?"

"I didn't know it at the time, but yes. A boy from one of your school's was waiting for us outside the club."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw him and his friends at the history museum earlier."

"What did their uniforms look like?"

"Black, with purple lining."

"Do you know his name?"

"Hide, I don't know his last name."

"What happened after that?"

She told him what she could, about Nobu and the others, about dancing, about leaving. The detective grew more intrigued.

"Is that when you got attacked?"

"How do you know that?" Joan asked with surprise.

"When the boy hugged you, you winced in pain."

Joan was surprised by his observation skills.

"Yes. I tried to get a cab, but I didn't have any money and when I sent a message to my friends they didn't answer. The bouncer wouldn't let me back in or stay out front to wait, so I decided to walk. I didn't realize that part of town was bad and I got into a fight with two men."

"Do you know their names?"

"No, but I could give you a description."

"We'll get that later. How did you escape?"

Why were they still talking about her? When were they going to tell her what happened to Amelia and Elisa?

"One of the boys helped me, Nobu. We went to see his mother and she patched me up. Then they got a taxi and brought me back here. Please," Joan begged, leaning forward. "Tell me what is going on. What happened to my friends? Where are they?"

For the first time, the detective displayed an emotion - shock.

"You mean no one's told you?"

"I didn't want to overstep my bounds," Professor Pendra explained when the detective gave him a questioning stare.

He scowled, then rubbed his eyes before cursing.

"I hate this part of the job," he mumbled before looking up at her.

The stony face of the detective melted away to reveal one of genuine sympathy. Whatever he wanted to tell her, he was truly sorry.

Suddenly, Joan didn't want to hear it. Whatever he wanted to say, she didn't want him to say it. If he didn't say the words, then they wouldn't be true. She began to stand, but the detective gently grabbed her hand, holding her in place. The professor placed an arm around her shoulders.

She couldn't breathe. It was like being body slammed by that man all over again, the air rushing out of her lungs.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but your friends, Amelia Casteau and Elisa Pfeiffer, were found dead nearly an hour ago."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Whew! I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written. I'm pretty sure prologues aren't supposed to be this long, but there was a lot to set up and cover. The next chapter will take place 10 years from now, putting us in the year 2017. I can't promise when I'll have the next chapter. I normally like having everything written and ready for weekly postings, but I've been working on this story for 2 years already and I wanted to get it posted for people to start enjoying. If I didn't, it would probably have been 5 years before I posted this thing.

I hope you like this story enough to keep reading it whenever I do post updates. I suggest following the story so you can receive a notification when I do finally post.

Until then, thanks for reading and please R&R! I would love to hear your thoughts.


	2. Chapter One

**Author's Soundtrack:  
** Marked Man by Mieka Pauley

* * *

 **Chapter One**

* * *

The entrance to Domery Park was blocked off by several police cruises and armed officers. Detective Joan Kelley slipped beneath the bright yellow crime scene tape stretched across the gates, pointedly ignoring the onslaught of camera flashes and invasive questions from reporters. Fifteen minutes since she'd gotten the call and already the media swarmed the area like a pack of hyenas.

Officer Blaine Ballinger was waiting for her, a welcoming smile plastered on his handsome face. His partner, Trevor Callahan, and another officer were escorting two men towards the cruisers in handcuffs. Both sported black eyes and bloody noses, spewing insults at one another.

"You motherfucker-"

"And a damn good one, according to your's."

"Fucking prick! I'm gonna break your nose all over again!"

"Will you two shut up!" Trevor snarled, shoving his charge forward. Barely standing at 5'7" with shoes on, Trevor didn't look like much, but he was built like a bull and could tackle like a linebacker. Without much trouble, he threw the man in the back of his cruiser before another fight could break out.

"Those bodies look a little fresh for Homicide to be involved, Blaine." Joan wrinkled her nose as the stench of booze, vomit, and blood wafted her way. "Smell like it too. They suspects?"

"Isn't that for you to figure out, Detective?" Blaine asked with a playful smirk. Were Joan a weaker woman, she might have swooned. "But I don't think so. Got an anonymous tip about the body five minutes before witnesses from the bar down the road said that lovely pair got kicked out for turning their verbal spat into a brawl. They thought the empty park was the best place to settle things. Only got a few punches in before me and Trevor arrived."

"You were the first on the scene?"

"Yeah. Cuffed those assholes and waited for backup to arrive before canvassing the area and finding the body."

Blaine waved for her to follow him and they walked deeper into the park. After crossing an open field towards a densely wooded area they stepped onto a well-travelled path.

"We found the body not too far off the main trail. Honestly, not sure how our caller even found it."

A couple of theories sprang to Joan's mind, but she kept them to herself.

After several minutes of walking, Blain led her off the path and into the trees, his flashlight lighting up the brush. In the distance, she could see lights set up by the CSI team, beaming around the trees and illuminating the scene of the crime. In the center of it all was the blanketed body of the victim.

Dr. Melinda Carter knelt beside the body, fishing around her medical bag for her tools. Normally the picture of professionalism, Joan was surprised to see her looking particularly frazzled. When Mel spotted Joan, she greeted her with a tight smile before running a trembling hand through her salt and pepper hair.

"Have I told you recently that I need to retire?"

"You may have mentioned it the last time we spoke." Joan studied the doctor's tense posture. "That bad?"

Mel chewed on her lower lip, glancing back at the body with trepidation. "It's been a while since I've seen something so brutal. You know I don't like to guess at the killer's motives, but whoever did this truly hated this man."

Joan's eyes fell to the victim's body, her stomach knotting into a tight ball of nerves as she wondered what lay beneath the cover. Rather than waiting for the sensation to wear off, she used it to propel her forward. With a nod, she indicated for Mel to begin her examination.

The blanket was lifted.

Joan sucked in a breath.

Blain heaved into a bush.

It was an understatement to say the killer had not been kind. Every inch of the male victim's body was covered in lacerations, precise strokes with a blade that left tissue and muscle damaged and exposed. Heavy bruising and abnormal protrusions scattered across his limbs indicated brutal beatings and broken bones. What was supposed to be his face was nothing but a swollen mass of lumps and blood. His scalp had been removed, leaving few strands of faded gold to catch on fallen leaves.

Joan's heart clenched as she etched the carnage and feelings they evoked into her mind. There would be photos to remind her of the devastation the killer had wrought, but there was something lost behind the filter of a camera. She wanted to remember it, for the victim and his family.

"His legs are broken in several places," Mel stated, managing to slip on the mask of a long-serving forensic pathologist. "Same with his arms. The skull is exposed and looks like it may have several fractures as well."

A CSI proffered a wallet found several feet from the body. Joan slipped on a pair of gloves before taking.

"License belongs to an Alec Génial, age 37."

A severe looking man gazed up at her from the state issued picture. With sharp features framed by blonde and an intense gaze, Joan got the feeling the man was passionate about everything he did. He didn't carry much cash but had a credit card, gym membership, and a couple of rewards cards for several well-known health bars. Judging by the height and weight listed on the license, Alec was very much into health and fitness. If the man before her was the same Alec, the body he cherished had been decimated.

A theory declared itself: the killer wanted to destroy what this man took pride in piece by piece.

"We'll want to confirm his ID. Let's make sure to run dental-"

"Teeth were removed," Mel informed her, continuing to log information she observed about the victim.

"Of course they were," Joan said with a sigh. "We'll try the DNA database. With any luck, he's in there."

Teeth were often removed to prevent positive identification, but in this instance, Joan wasn't so certain that was the case.

"T.O.D. looks to be around a week ago. As for what killed him," Mel draped the blanket back over the victim and stood, "my guess is Blunt Force Trauma. He's got a real nasty contusion on the back of his skull. I'll have more conclusive information once I've finished the autopsy."

"You'll call me when you're done?" Not that Joan needed to ask.

"I always do. Joan," Mel pulled her aside, out of earshot of Blaine and the other CSI. "Please be careful chasing this one."

Joan offered Mel a comforting smile. "I'm always careful."

"You're careful like a newborn foal is graceful," Mel replied bluntly.

Joan pursed her lips, not finding the comparison appealing.

"Don't give me that look. You have a real knack for getting yourself into all kinds of situations."

Seeing she was about to argue, Mel gave Joan a look indicating she had a very long list of evidence she had no issue providing.

Snapping her mouth closed, Joan decided to focus on her job. There was a man who had lost his life. Finding his killer took priority over her ego.

"I'll try to be careful," she offered.

Finding this acceptable, Mel nodded and began the process of having the body removed and taken to the morgue.

Joan looked back at the crime scene, still alive with CSI. It was going to be a very long morning.

* * *

It was nearly 8PM when Joan stepped out of the elevator and into the long white hall leading to the morgue. The overwhelming smell of bleach hit her like a wall and she crinkled her nose in distaste. It was meant to smell clean and sanitary, but over the years she had come to associate it with the sickening sweet rot of human decay. Mel worked hard to keep the bodies from sitting out too long and, perhaps, relied a little to heavily on bleach, but years of working around bodies and hospitals had married the two stenches together. It was impossible for her to smell one without imagining the other.

Inside the morgue, Mel was leaning over the body of an elderly man, chatting away her findings to the technician working opposite her. When she spotted Joan walking through the double doors, she signaled for her to wait.

"Further examination of the bruising on the chest and lungs reveals asphyxiation from something heavy being placed on the torso, making it impossible for the lungs to expand. Bruising doesn't indicate what kind of object or objects were used."

Mel turned off the mic clipped to the collar of her scrubs and motioned for Joan to follow her to a slab further down the room. The technician gave her a nod before he went to work preparing the other man for the fridge.

"McCoy's case?" Joan asked out of curiosity.

Mel nodded. "The findings are rather interesting."

"Suffocation by placing a heavy weight on the chest, huh?" Joan recalled something she heard during her years in high school. "Reminds me of the old methods of torture and execution - _Peine forte et dure_. Stones would be placed on the defendant's chest until the weight became too great that they either confessed or suffocated."

"Lovely," Mel replied flatly. "Archaic just system, another reason to enjoy our current era instead of longing for the old days. No idea why people are so desperate to live in the past."

Joan smiled. "I don't blame them for romanticizing history. There is something appealing about living in a time before technology ruled our lives, when things were simpler."

Mel snorted. "Please, I give them five minutes before they realize there's no cell service or data and panic."

Joan couldn't help but grin, though it fell as Mel set to work and pulled back the sheet covering the victim. Her lunch turned into a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach.

"DNA confirmed this is Alec Génial," Mel informed her. "Cause of death was asphyxiation through strangulation. Fractures on the larynx and hyoid bone confirm this." Mel pushed aside some of the loose flesh and revealed Alec's neck. "It's difficult to see, given all the other damage to his body, but there are several ligature marks that don't match the patterns of the other bruises. Judging by the striations, my guess is the killer used a type of rope."

"So he survived everything else the killer put him through." Joan stared in astonishment.

With a grim expression, Mel nodded. "And he survived quite a lot. The autopsy took a little longer than expected - there was a lot to process." Mell moved to the lower end of the slab. "Your killer started with his feet. I don't know what he used, but it broke nearly every bone. Then he moved to the hands, followed by legs, then arms, and then his ribs. It'd be easier to count the number of bones that are still intact than the broken ones."

"Shit," Joan breathed. "He was destroying him piece by piece."

"And day by day. Several bones had already started the healing process, though I doubt he would have been able to use his body the same if he had survived. I would estimate he was held captive and tortured for nearly a month."

Joan's mind and stomach turned equally, her lunch stirring dangerously as a theory solidified. In the hours since arriving at the crime scene, Joan had looked into Alec Génial and discovered a man who prioritizes his health and appearance. He built a career as a wrestling performer before establishing his own agency focused on health and betterment for performers.

The puzzle pieces were gathering, some connected to create the beginnings of a solid picture, but nothing she could make out just yet. But she needed more.

"There's something else," Mel continued.

Pulling back what little remained of Alec's hair, Mel revealed a deep gouge carved into the swell that was his forehead.

"I wasn't sure what it was at first, thinking it was just another laceration, but when I started cleaning it up I noticed it was different from the rest."

Taking a napkin from one of the trays, Joan pressed it to the wound. Blood seeped into the paper, revealing something similar to the number "7".

"Joan." She looked up at Mel, who had grown pale and tense. "This isn't the first time I've seen this mark."

"Where else have you seen it?"

"It wasn't one of ours. A few years ago, one of my friends was working on an unsolved case. He asked me if I had this something similar before. The victim had been tortured, her face removed and never found."

Joan tried to focus on the mark and not the phantom sensation of a knife cutting away at her layer by layer. "I haven't heard about any of this in the papers."

"They kept the mark from the media, even limited the amount of information about her death."

"How long ago was this?"

"Maybe five years?"

Another piece was on the board.

The door to the morgue swung open and the technician returned. Mel covered Alec's body and finished providing Joan with the other information she had found.

Joan left the hospital feeling in dire need of a hot bath and a deep scrub. Taking a deep breath of cool night air, Joan considered her options. She could head to the precinct, do some digging, and fall into an awkward sleep at her desk that would probably leave her sore for the next few days or she could head home, take a scalding hot shower, and get some decent sleep in her own bed leaving her prepared for the next day.

Both were tempting in their own right, but as much as she wanted to keep running through the evidence, Joan was no good to Alec brain dead. Hoping he would understand, she climbed into her car and headed home.

* * *

At 6AM sharp Joan slipped into her uncomfortable office chair and logged onto her computer. While she waited, Joan took a long drink of her coffee and savored the injection of caffeine she desperately needed.

The night had not been kind to her, leaving her sheets nearly soaking and her gun pointed at the shadows. Sometimes she wondered whether it was a good idea to keep a loaded gun tucked her pillow, but considering she hadn't brought anyone home in over a year the chances of accidentally killing a lover were nil.

As soon as her computer was up and running, Joan accessed _LEIS_ and began her search for previous cases resembling Alec's.

Soon after, she found herself regretting the donut she'd nabbed on her way to the office.

There was more than the case Mel mentioned. The victim from five years ago, a woman by the name of Hannah Barclay, was just one of many other victims. At least nine other cases had nearly identical patterns. Each case was disturbing in its own right, each victim having suffered at the hands of their killer before having the number carved into their forehead and then killed.

The very first victim had been a young woman, Nicole Michaels. Ten years ago her body had been found discarded beneath a bridge, her skin removed and then stitched back on inside out. She was followed by Nell Smith, then Brian Dower, Cecil Boris, Hannah Barclay, Charles Franks, Mark Brussels, and Chad Garrett. Each bore the strange marking Mel found.

Joan had to immediately discard several theories surrounding the number "7".

"Working on a particularly difficult puzzle?"

Lieutenant Grace Donahue was standing beside Joan's desk, studying her carefully. A tall woman who walked with a long and powerful stride, the lieutenant challenged anyone who got in her way, earning herself a reputation as a hardass. And she was. Officers and Detectives earned their keep under her supervision or they found themselves another department. Not a lot of people could work under her, but those who survived found themselves a powerful ally who was willing to go to bat for them when it counted. For Joan, she found an unexpected friend and confidant.

"One that's more than ten years old, apparently."

The lieutenant's brows arched in surprise. "Sounded like the body was a bit more fresh than that."

"This victim was only the killer's latest. We may have ourselves a serial killer."

"Nothing like good news to start your morning." The lieutenant tapped her finger on her cup of coffee. "How many cases?"

"Including ours? Ten. It looks like he's been killing someone nearly every year."

"That we know of."

Joan cringed. It would be imprudent to assume they had found all the victims. Although most of the dumping grounds were fairly public areas, it didn't mean everyone had been found. Joan hated the idea that there were those who had been missed, but given how long the killer had been active, it was likely.

"Looking through all those cases is going to take you forever. When Ballinger gets in, you can have him."

"Don't let his fans hear you say that."

The lieutenant just rolled her eyes and disappeared behind her office door. As soon as Blaine came in, Joan wrangled him into helping her.

But after nearly nine hours of scouring through a decade's worth of files, they were no closer to finding their killer or a connection to the victims than they had been that morning. Blaine was a great asset and help her solidify her theory that the killer was focused on destroying something valuable to the victims, something only a person who knew them personally would know.

They weren't targets of convenience. They had been chosen. What Joan couldn't figure out was _why_ they had been chosen. Their economic classes varied widely. They spanned genders, ages, body types, and hair color. Nothing seemed to tie them together.

Growling in frustration, Joan leaned back in her chair and rubbed her tired eyes. It was naive to think she could find something more experienced detectives couldn't just 36 hours after working on the case, but she had still hoped.

If the pattern held, there wouldn't be another victim for almost a year, but she needed to find him before then.

The scent of cheap department coffee had her smiling up at Blaine. Although it wasn't the best, a jolt of caffeine was certainly needed. Thanking him, she took the warm cup and took a reviving sip.

"Any luck on your end?"

"No," he said, sounding as frustrated as she felt. "I thought I found another case on the Eastern Star, but there was no carving."

Joan frowned. "Signs of torture?"

"Yeah, similar to the Cecil Boris case, though not as extreme. Detectives never found the killer, but that's where the similarities end as far as I can tell."

Pulling up the case file on her computer, Joan read through the notes. It was a 12-year-old case with limited similarities, but it put a thought in her head. So far, they had been focused on cases from the Western Star, but there was no reason to assume their killer hadn't travelled between planets.

Chewing thoughtfully on her lip, Joan searched the Eastern Star's database for the marking.

There were dozens of results, but all of them were gang-related.

"Worth a shot," Blaine offered with a sympathetic smile. "Maybe we'll find something in the morning. Wanna grab a bite to eat before heading home?"

The mischievous glint in his eye and slight curve to his lips hinted at something more than a desire for food. Blaine was known to have his way with any woman he wanted - and some men. When she'd commented on Blain's fans, she hadn't entirely been joking. Good looking and fun to be around, Blaine was very popular, even with previous conquests. It would be a lie to say she wasn't curious, and it had been some time since she'd had a good roll in the sack. But, she needed clues not a lay.

"Thanks but you go on ahead. I'm going to finish up some work."

It was clear he was disappointed, but Blaine shrugged it off with a friendly pat on her shoulder and a wave goodbye.

With a sigh, Joan hoped she wouldn't regret her decision. Shifting uncomfortably, Joan tried to refocus her attention.

She jumped when her phone rang. Briefly, she contemplated ignoring it. Whatever it was could likely wait until morning.

She picked up anyway.

"Kelley," she answered.

 _"Detective Joan Kelley?"_

"Yes," she stated patiently, considering how to refine her search further. Gut instinct told her she was on the right track with looking into the Eastern Star, the question was, what did she look for?

The man on the other end sighed in relief before charging into his introduction. _"Sorry for the late call, but this is Detective Mitsu Akatsuki of the 13th Precinct in Tokyo."_

Fingers stilled on the keyboard. Was it was divine providence that resulted in a detective from the Eastern Star calling her or just luck?

"What can I do for you, Detective?"

 _"You recently discovered the body of a victim who had been tortured and a number carved into their forehead."_

"The investigation is still ongoing." The reply was automatic and she flinched at the cold tone. The man on the other end didn't seem offended.

 _"I can imagine. Not to make your job any more difficult, but I believe your killer has now decided to take up residence here on the Eastern Star."_

"Oh?" Search forgotten, Detective Akatsuki had her full attention. "And why do you think that?"

 _"This morning, we discovered the body of a man who showed signs of torture and had something carved into his forehead - a digital '8' and a 'V'. Mean anything to you?"_

She wished it did. Slumping in her chair, Joan took a drink of her cooling coffee. "Unfortunately, they don't. The carvings for my victims are different, and the timeline is much longer than yours."

 _"So we're probably looking at a copycat."_

A thought occurred to her. Eight followed seven. What if the numbers weren't related to killings themselves, but the killer? Perhaps seven indicated the line of succession. . .

"Maybe more like a protege," Joan voiced her thoughts aloud. "The carving was never released to the media, so the only way your killer would know about it would be if he was a part of the original murders or knew the killer."

 _"Do you think they could still be working together?"_

"I don't know." The beginnings of a headache had Joan pinching the bridge of her nose. Maybe that's what the "V" meant, that the protege had yet to earn the right to use the number alone.

 _"Maybe it's a test."_

The corners of Joan's lips rose slightly as his train of thought followed hers.

If it was a test, would that mean the master remained nearby?

Perhaps Alec was his farewell killing, his last before moving on and training another in his place.

Was her killer now on the Eastern Star? Would she need to follow after him to put an end to his legacy?

The warmth drained from her face. The last place she wanted to be was the one place she needed to go.

"Detective Akatsuki, I know it's rather unusual, but would you be open to me joining your case?"

 _"I was actually hoping you would say something like that. We'll need to jump through some hoops, but I think it would be worth the effort. I don't want this protege taking up his master's mantle."_

Considering the speed with which the new killer was working, the protege would easily outpace the master.

"Neither do I."

Eyes falling to a framed photo on her desk, Joan took a shaky breath and hung up the phone. It had been nearly 11 years since she was last on the Eastern Star, nearly 11 years since her world had been upended and her friends taken from her. Death had chased her away, but now it was dragging her back. For Alec and the others, she would put aside her own issues and return to the place that haunted her dreams to find their killers.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Whew! You guys have no idea how many times I've rewritten this chapter! This is my first time writing a mystery story and it's been tricky figuring out how to lay out all the pieces and information.

Thanks to all those who favorited and followed this story after the first chapter! I know NtF doesn't get a lot of love, but this is a story that I've been looking forward to writing. I hope you all continue to enjoy it as we start to really dig in. Please R&R, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time!


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Soundtrack:**

When I'm Small by Phantogram

Honesty by Fink (line break)

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

 _"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Our flight will be landing in twenty minutes. Please return to your seats and keep your seatbelts fastened until the Captain has turned off the seat belt light. We're expected to pass through a storm system moving over the city, so our landing may be a little rough. I hope you brought your umbrellas as the local area is expected to get several inches of rain. Local time is 1 PM."_

Fire caressed the exterior of the shuttle as it broke through the atmosphere of the Eastern Star. Brilliant flames sparked and flickered with life before being extinguished as the ship slowed to entry speed. The wing took up the majority of Joan's view out the small circular window, but beyond it she could make out the soft, hazy glow of the planet's mesosphere fading into the clear blue of the midday sky. Joan couldn't help but admit it was a beautiful sight that seemed unchanged despite the passage of time. It greeted her with its serenity, welcoming her with its warmth, but it was a façade. The ominous storm system stirring menacingly below, as if in warning, was a more honest reflection of what waited for her on the surface.

The ship was swallowed by the darkening storm clouds, rain pelting the window and violent bolts of lightning streaking across the sky. The woman in the seat beside her stared fearfully out the window, simpering every time the sky flashed and the aircraft shivered. Closing the shade, Joan offered her a comforting smile before leaning back in her seat without concern. Rather than being nervous, Joan appreciated the occasional jostle, convincing herself that it was the ship that was shaking and not her.

The storm continued to rage as Joan stepped out of the airport, bag in hand. Unfortunately, it didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon.

Sighing, Joan wished she'd brought more than her raincoat or had bothered to purchase one of the thousands of umbrellas from the stores inside the airport before exiting. Thirty seconds exposed to the torrential downpour and her coat would be utterly useless. But, it would have to do for now. She needed to get to the police department and meet with Detective Akatsuki. There was still a day's worth of catch-up to be done and she didn't want to waste anymore time than was necessary. When she was settled at the hotel she could work on buying anything she needed.

Eyeing the line taxis for one that was available, Joan's gaze froze on a familiar figure standing beside a sleek black Bentley. Her heart stuttered with surprise and an emotion she chose not to identify, both quickly replaced with annoyance. Not bothering to ponder why he was even there, Joan hurried to open the door to one of the closest available cabs, hoping he hadn't spotted her.

His warm hand wrapped around her wrist. His grip was light, but it burned like fire and she yanked it away. Instinctively, her eyes scanned the area for the tell tale signs of cameras.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, Joan. I made sure no one knew I was coming."

Joan narrowed her eyes, her irritation growing at his amusement. This was not a laughing matter. "What are you doing here, Caeden?"

"Miss, if you're not going to use the cab, please step aside," the cabbie politely informed her, his eyes watching potential fares pass him by.

"She won't be needing it," Caeden stated with his usual, handsome smile.

"Yes, I will," Joan shot back. "Just give me a minute."

Seeing the tension between the pair, the cabbie nodded and slipped back into his car, turning the light on the roof of his car off.

"I can take you to your hotel-"

"That's not necessary," Joan snapped. Her eyes darted around the loading area once again before landing on Caeden. "I have other places to go, and don't dodge my question."

"Did you honestly think I was going to let you come back here alone?" He asked, his tone incredulous as he took a step towards her. "As soon as I heard you were coming, I booked a flight."

That fluttering of her heart returned, but she was quick to stomp it down. What he had done was not okay, no matter how good his intentions were. That was the problem with Caeden, despite being one the most intelligent people she knew, he didn't always think things through. He acted on whims without regard for himself or others. In times, it was sweet, in others, it was dangerous.

Right now, it was meddlesome.

"I appreciate your concern, but there was no reason for that. I'll be fine." Joan opened the cab door, which was promptly shut by Caeden. She took a deep breath. This wasn't a fight she wanted to have. Not now. Not again. "Caeden, I'm here for work - you know, that thing you should be doing right now?"

The sharp glare of her gaze didn't seem to affect him, though it never really had. Instead, he shrugged and leaned against the side of the cab, intentionally blocking the handle and any attempt she might have made to escape. "The company pretty much runs itself. It won't miss me for a couple of weeks."

Eyes wide, Joan stared at Caeden. "A couple of weeks? Not even considering how ridiculous that sounds, even for you, I have no idea how long I'm going to be here. Investigations can take months - years." And considering how long the killers had been active, and their terrible run of luck, Joan was willing to bet on the latter.

"I'll be here as long as you need me."

Frustration rising, Joan scowled. She didn't have time for this argument and she certainly didn't have the energy to deal with the trouble that often followed Caeden Julian.

"Go. Home."

Patience spent, she tried to shoulder him out of the way, but he wouldn't budge. Ready with another reprimand, Joan glared up at Caeden only for her anger to dissipate. Etched into his handsome features were expressions of worry and hurt. Unwillingly, her hand lifted to caress the crinkle in his brow, a tender gesture from the old days. As he leaned into it, her heart thrummed.

There was a clicking of a camera, and Joan was jolted back to reality. Head snapping in the direction of the sound, she was relieved to see it was just a group of tourists taking pictures of a landmark in the distance.

Caeden's hand touched her cheek, as he softly called her name. Suddenly realizing how close they were, Joan sucked in a breath and took an immediate step back. She didn't have time for this, for falling into Caeden's orbit and what used to be. All of her focus needed to be on the case and finding Alec's killer.

Hand hanging in the air where she had once stood, Caeden followed her with his eyes before letting it drop to his side. "Why won't you let me help you?"

The pain in his voice was like a knife to the heart, sharp, direct, and twisted. It was almost difficult to remind herself why she needed to keep her distance, why pushing him away was best for everyone involved.

"This isn't something you can help with," she told him, pushing aside the feelings he invoked and sharpening the edge to her voice. "Go home before Rebecca or someone else notices you're gone."

The name was enough to shock him into mobility. He stood, a question on his lips and furrow in his brow. She used the opportunity to pry the cab door open and slip inside, locking the latch behind her. The cabbie watched in the rearview mirror with concern as Caeden yanked on the handle, but Joan directed him to take her to the police department. Without needing further prompting, he started to drive off, leaving Caeden to call after her. She kept her eyes on the road ahead and tried to reorient herself.

There was no room for Caeden right now, and everything he brought with him. Right now, there was only room for her investigation. Only the victims.

By the time the cab pulled up to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Caeden had been successfully forced from her mind and she was ready to get to work.

Paying the cabbie, and tipping him generously to make up for the earlier scene with Caeden, Joan slung her duffle over her shoulder and hurried to the entrance of the station. The building itself was quite large, with over 15 floors, and boasted a pleasantly landscaped entrance that provided her some shelter from the ever raging storm as she pushed through the doors. Her own department was rather small in comparison, and not as nearly well looked after due to budget constraints.

Shaking the excess rain from her coat, she approached the receptionist's desk and asked for Detective Akatsuki.

While she waited for him to arrive, she couldn't help but notice the curious glances sent her way. It could have been because she looked like a drowned rat, her blonde hair matted from the rain and plastered to her face and clothes nearly soaked through, or because she was a Westerner. Either way, she paid them no mind, distracting herself with checking her email on her phone. She ignored the five missed calls from Caeden.

"So we meet again."

Joan looked up from her phone, apology on her lips for being distracted that quickly died when she saw who was addressing her.

His face more defined, black hair cut short to a professional length instead of loosely framing his handsome face. Dressed in slick black slacks, a bold choice of a light lavender button down, and a smart black vest, she almost didn't recognize him as the boy she had met all those years ago during her last visit.

"Well I'll be damned," she whispered in shock. The detective cracked and amused grin.

"Quite the small world isn't it?" He observed, still smiling.

"The name was familiar, but I didn't think…" Joan continued to gawk for a moment before collecting herself. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude. It's a pleasure to see you again."

Mitsu took the hand she offered him. "You too, although I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Agreed."

There was a lot to be said between them, but Joan kept quiet as Mitsu guided her to his office on the fifth floor. As he closed the door, however, she took a seat and voiced the one thing she had been wanting to say for the past 10 years.

"I don't think I ever thanked you for what you and your friends did that night."

Mitsu offered her a glass of water before settling into his chair behind his desk, his expression dour. "We don't deserve your gratitude. We should have never lost sight of them to begin with."

"No," Joan said with a gentle shake of her head, "they weren't your responsibility, they were mine. And even after I left, you tried to keep track of them, to find them when they disappeared on you."

It was embarrassing to remember, but Joan had first believed Mitsu and his friends were responsible. That they had taken advantage of her friends and killed them. They were, after all, the last one sot be seen with Amelia and Elisa. They had been strangers who had already proven themselves capable of violence, and her broken heart and mind had chosen to ignore the kindness and concern she had seen in all of them. But Detective Kohaku, the lead on the case, informed her that Amelia and Elisa had given the boys the slip and that they had spent the night morning looking for them. Girls they hadn't known for more than a fraction of the night and they had scoured the area for them until the police found them. They had done more than most and she had blamed them without hesitation.

"Anyone would have done the same."

She wasn't so certain about that, but she wasn't there to recount the past. Glancing at the boxes sitting beside his desk, Mitsu reached for one and pulled from it a pile of files.

"I assume you've made yourself familiar with the Uchika Kenichi case?" He asked, offering the files to her. Inside were detailed documents and an assortment of photographs.

"Yes," she said as she looked through some of the photos. They were of the crime scene itself. Uchika's body had been dumped in a heavily used alley, making it difficult for Mitsu's team to identify relevant evidence to the case, many of the samples they collected compromised or useless. It would have been beneficial to exam in the body, but the departments had taken far too long to negotiate their partnership and the family demanded to have the body returned to them for burial. Thankfully, the crime scene photographer had taken ample images. "The degree of torture seems less intense, less personal. In the cases on the Western Star, the killer seemed focused on tailoring his brutality to each victim. With Uchika, it seems almost...basic."

"Perhaps this protégé doesn't enjoy the torture as much as his master, or maybe he's still learning."

Furrowing her brow, Joan considered Mitsu's suggestion, but something nagged at her. If the protégé didn't care for the torture, why would the master select him? It risked the legacy he wanted to build. The learning curve seemed more likely, but…

"What did the autopsy indicate?"

Mitsu dug through some of the documents before pulling out the autopsy report. "The tools used were definitely different than the cases on the Western Star, and considering the torture wasn't as...thorough, it's difficult to determine if the methods used were similar. It really is like a completely separate person is killing these people."

If not for the details that made it impossible for a copycat, Joan would have thought the same. And yet, the more she studied the results of Mitsu's investigation so far, the more she became convinced that this was a different person, unrelated to the first. The only things that tied them together were the torture and the carvings in the forehead.

Were they going in circles?

"Perhaps you should investigate the copycat angle, and I'll work it from the protégé angle," Joan suggested.

Mitsu looked at her thoughtfully. "I suppose that's not a terrible idea. It will keep our perspectives open for other possibilities until the evidence points us in another direction."

What they needed, however, was more evidence. Alec and Uchika's bodies had been combed for as much information as possible. There was nothing left.

But that meant more bodies, and Joan was not particularly keen on losing another person just so they could get more information.

"Maybe we're missing something," Joan mumbled to herself.

"Well, perhaps we should dig in and see what we can find."

She'd been over the files at least 100 times, knew them inside and out, but if years on the force had taught her anything it was the benefit of a fresh pair of eyes.

"Coffee in the pot?"

"Of course."

"Then let's get started."

There was a stiff kink in Joan's lower back that made its presence known as she climbed out of the cab. Massaging the sore muscle, Joan glanced at her watch and groaned, refusing to believe it read 2AM. Taking into account the time difference, it had been well over 24 hours since she'd last slept, and she was certainly starting to feel it. Limbs heavy, she trudged into the hotel, longing to fall into bed. Barely managing to get through the check-in process, Joan somehow made it into her room without collapsing.

Rain soaked coat discarded on the floor, she fell face first onto her bed. She debated if she really needed to shower and brush her teeth. They were things that could wait until she'd gotten at least some sleep. But the more she thought about it, the more the grime of the day began to seep into her skin, making it itch and crawl.

With a frustrated grunt, she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom. By the time she felt clean, Joan's mind had gone from groggy haze to turning gears and twisting puzzle pieces. The investigation was at a standstill, she and Mitsu failing to find anything new in their search. The crime scenes revealed very little, witness testimonies were unreliable, with recent interviews leading them nowhere new.

Was it the same for the other six predecessors? Had they been just as careful? Had they changed their techniques over the years?

Joan froze, towel stilling in her hair.

Cursing her idiocy, she dropped the towel and scrambled for her phone.

 _"Ballinger,"_ Blaine's voice came over the line. He sounded rather chipper, and Joan remembered they were several hours ahead. For once, she was thankful for the time difference.

"Blain, I need you to do me a favor."

 _"Jeez, Joan, isn't it 4 where you are?"_

"3. Blaine?"

 _"Yeah, sorry. What do you need?"_

"I need you to dig through our cold case files again."

 _"Joan, we already went through those-"_

"I want you to be more vague." They should have done this before, but she had been too focused on a pattern, looking for key elements. She'd blinded herself instead of keeping her eyes open and allowing the evidence to come to her. As soon as she got the call from Mitsu, they should have looked again. " We were too selective before. Look for signs of any mistreatment of the body, but that's it."

 _"How far back?"_

"As far back as the files take you."

There was silence on the other end. _"We have over 75 years of files, Joan."_

It was a lot she was asking him for, she knew that, but she was desperate. Any clue, no matter how small, would help - and they needed as much help as they could get.

"Talk to the Lieutenant, see if she can get you some help. Focus on the Western Star, I'll take a look through the Eastern Star cases."

 _"You're lucky I like you."_

She could hear the smile in his voice and promised to take him out for lunch for every day he searched.

 _"Not exactly a motivator to hurry,"_ he joked.

Joan rolled her eyes. "Thanks Blaine."

If they were lucky, Blaine would find something they missed, a clue or piece of evidence that would point them in the right direction.

 _If_ they were lucky. There was still a very good chance she had Blaine on a wild goose hunt.

Clinging desperately to that hopeful thought, Joan crawled beneath the sheets and fell asleep.

Her phone woke her an hour later.

"Kelley," she answered groggily, her eyes unwilling to open and look at that clock.

 _"Sorry to wake you, but we have another body."_

Joan's heart dropped and she sat up. "You're certain it's our guy?"

 _"Same method of torture, same brand."_

Mitsu sounded just as tired as she felt, having left the department after her. But hidden the lining of his voice was anger and frustration. As beneficial as more evidence was, neither of them wanted it at the cost of another life. And for it to happen so soon. This killer was wasting no time.

"Send me the address. I'll catch a cab." She scrambled out of bed and dug through her duffle to find a new set of clothes - a dry set of clothes.

 _"I'm sending a car to pick you up. He should be there soon."_

Mitsu hung up as Joan tugged on the last of her clothes. Her hair had dried and was a bit of a tangled mess. She ran a brush through it real quick and tied it up in a messy bun. Grabbing the essentials, she rushed down to the entrance of the hotel, just as a cruiser was pulling up.

"Detective Kelley?" A shaggy haired officer asked her through the rolled down passenger window. Nodding and offering a quick good morning, she slid into the passenger seat. He flicked on his lights and hit the accelerator, barely giving her time to latch her seatbelt.

"Mitsu told me it was you, but I didn't believe him."

Raising a curious brow, Joan glanced at the officer. There were heavy rings under his eyes, an indication of the long hours he pulled, but there was no mistaking his clearly energetic eyes and wide smile.

"Hideo," she stated, recalling him easily now.

Somehow, his grin grew wider.

"Nice memory. You, of course, are hard to forget," he said with a smile and a wink.

Joan smiled out of courtesy, but wasn't keen on the way his eyes had flickered towards her chest. If she recalled, he'd had little restraint back when she'd met him all those years ago as well. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

What a pity.

"Did all of you end up on the force?" Joan asked out of curiosity.

"In some capacity," he replied. "Mitsu is the hot shot detective, pride of the department. I'm a bit too lazy to really try for a higher rank, but I like working patrols and meeting people. Nobu, he's a private detective. Spent a couple years on the force and decided the rules weren't really for him."

A young man with an arrogant smile laughed at her from the backseat of a cab. No, playing by other's rules didn't seem his style.

"It's a difficult job, working without the resources of the force."

"Well…" Judging by Hideo's sheepish smile, Nobu had a few more resources than most private detectives would. "He's done a lot for our department, for the people of Tokyo, it's only fair we give him help when he needs it."

It wasn't something Joan could approve of, the inappropriate use of police resources, however, she knew how beneficial outside help could be, an extra set of eyes, another person watching your back you could actually trust. But instead of discussing Nobu further, she shifted the conversation to Hideo, curious as to how he had been doing all these years.

The sun was barely cresting over the horizon when they pulled up to the crime scene. Mitsu was standing at the mouth of a dark alley, discussing something with another officer. There was an ambulance parked nearby, an EMT tended to a young man. Judging by the state of his attire, tattered and torn, covered in grime, and the sickly pallor of his skin, Joan concluded he had been living on the streets. Likely no more than 18, it was clear he had seen more than his fair share - including the body of the latest victim.

"Is there a shelter he can go to?" Joan asked, watching the boy interact with the EMT. Every time he reached to touch him, he flinched. His bloodshot eyes darted around, searching for a way out.

Hideo's smile faded. "They'll offer him a place to stay, and there are shelters around the city, but ultimately, it's up to him to decide where he goes after he's questioned."

"Joan." Mitsu approached them, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. The dark circles under his eyes indicated he'd gotten about as much sleep as she had, if not less. "Thanks for coming. Sorry for dragging you out of bed so early."

"Part of the job," she said with a casual shrug.

He smiled wryly at her remark and waved for her to follow him into the depths of the alley, leaving Hideo behind to secure the rest of the scene with the other officers.

The alley was dark, unlit by lamp light and untouched by the sun. The air was cool and moist, thick with the unpleasant stench of human waste, rot, and mold. Joan kept her breath shallow as they approached the body. He was slumped against the alley wall behind a rusted dumpster, easily mistaken for a sleeping vagrant. Older than the previous victims, his hair was completely gray and nearing white. Severe creases between his brows indicated an almost permanent frown. Waiting for the crime scene photographer to give his go ahead, Joan knelt in front of their latest victim and said a silent prayer.

Like the others, his body was battered and bruised, clearly tortured until the killer finally took his life. But unlike those of the Western Star, this man had been tortured with almost heartless precision. The cuts and broken bones were almost identical to Uchika's body. There was no variance, no custom approach to harming this man. It was almost as if the killer was torturing them out of a sense of duty rather than desire.

Joan frowned. How did this fit with what they already knew? _Did_ it fit?

An elder man wandered into the alley, carrying a familiar bag and yawning.

"My apologies for being late, Detective Akechi." He rubbed his tired eyes before slipping on a pair of gloves.

"Dr. Matsuhara is our forensic pathologist. Dr. Matsuhara, this is Detective Joan Kelley from the Western Star," Mitsu explained.

"Ah, yes, word of your presence has made its way through the department grapevine." The doctor's old eyes twinkled mischievously and Joan wondered just what the "word" about her was.

"Only good things, I hope," she said, getting to her feet. "Did any of the officers who arrived on the scene find any forms of identification?"

"The alley is well used, lots of foot traffic," Mitsu explained. "If his ID was here, it's probably long gone, along with anything else he might have had with him."

The previous victims had been easy to identify. Neither of the killers seemed to care too much about keeping the identities of their victims secret. Perhaps they didn't think they would be able to connect them to the victims, or perhaps there wasn't one. But Joan had long ago tossed out the idea that the victims were random. The attacks on those from the Western Star had been specialized to hurt the victims more than physically. Was it possible that the protégé was drifting so far from the pattern or was she missing another piece of the puzzle?

 _Was_ there even a pattern? Beyond torture and a brand, there was nothing that connected the two killers. Their victims varied in location and type, but the numbers couldn't have been a coincidence. There had to be a connection, something she was missing.

"Mitsu, do you think I could access your cold cases?"

Glancing at her with curiosity, he turned away from the doctor as he worked. "Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem. Have a theory?"

"Less a theory and more a hope." She tucked a few stray hairs from her eyes behind her ear. "I want to have another go at trying to find the other cases. If these are number 7 and 8 in our line up, there should be evidence of the other killers somewhere. I have someone on my team looking into the files on the Western Star and I'd like to have a look here."

Mitsu considered her for a moment before nodding. "I'm not sure we'll be able to find anything, but it's better than nothing. I'll stay to canvas the rest of the scene, but Hideo can take you to the archives."

Joan nodded and started to turn to find Hideo, then stopped. Her eyes found the body. "You'll give me a call when you're done with the autopsy?"

Dr. Matsuhara waved in confirmation and continued to work.

Hideo was standing just behind the police tape, acting as a physical barricade. With the rising sun had come curious eyes and the media, all wanting to get a glimpse of the tragedy. He was doing a surprisingly good job of glaring down anyone who got too close, especially the cameras. But he was all smiles when he saw Joan approaching. Happy to be her driver, he summoned another officer to take his place has he happily escorted her to his cruiser.

The archives were located in the lower levels of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, and housed files for all cases since the department's establishment. Cases from the past few decades had been logged digitally, but there were still hundreds of cases that were stored in boxes, waiting for transition. Joan eyed the deteriorating boxes, hoping she wouldn't have to dig too far back, but she would follow where the evidence led her - if there was any to be found.

Starting with the most recent murders, Joan and Hideo worked backwards, looking for any signs of abuse. When none of the cases in the past ten years matched the criteria - the length of time the killer had been active on the Western Star - Joan wondered if this was enough to solidify the master / protégé theory. But why switch planets? Was it part of the process? Did they trade off which planet they were active on? Would they find what they were looking for 10 years prior?

Driven to find the answer, Joan began searching further back.

The Eastern Star had been blessed with good fortune and peace, and while they had their fair share of crimes, most had been acts of passion, revenge, or greed. The deaths over the last 20 years, though violent, had been quick. Few had the markings of torture. Perhaps that was why, despite missing the tell tale brands, the strangulation, and the less than public dump sites, she had a growing list of potential victims.

There had been nearly 16 murders in the two decades before the Western Star killings - all with signs of torture. But what she found was that, rather than the torture becoming more brutal as time passed, it had become more controlled. The first few murders were just as violent as the Western Star killings, and then the killer seemed to settle. Or perhaps it was a sign of another transition. Did they work in waves? Violent and then controlled? Why? To what purpose?

"It doesn't make any sense," Joan growled in frustration. Where she hoped to find a lead, she had found only more questions that fed into a never ending loop. But at least she had more to go with than when she had first arrived. She would need more time to get through the files.

The sandwich Hideo brought several hours ago remained partially eaten, and her headache from staring at the screen for so long was getting worse. She needed fresh food, coffee, and at least four hours of sleep. Instead of sitting around and running the limited information she had gathered over and over in her head, Joan decided to head to the morgue. Mitsu hadn't called to report the autopsy was finished, but she needed a change in scenery to help clear her head.

Hideo was happy to drive her, excited for an opportunity to get out of the archives and do a bit of patrolling. He left her his number so she could give him a call if she needed another ride. She appreciated his willingness to chauffer her around town, and offered to buy him dinner one night. Beaming, he drove off, leaving Joan to enter the building alone.

Dr. Matsuhara didn't seem to favor the use of bleach as much as Mel did, the hall leading the morgue notably void of any sort of odor. As she reached the doors, she noticed a figure standing at the end of one of the slabs. The most recent victim was laid out, the noticeable incision on his torso indicating the autopsy was complete. The man standing at the victim's feed was dressed in dark clothing and he leaned on the slab, his knuckles white as his fingers gripped the edges. Head bowed, she was almost certain he was grieving.

She was glad they had identified him and found the family. Not wanting to interrupt, she found a bench along the wall and took a seat, waiting for Mitsu to arrive or the guest to leave.

"Ah, you're already here." Mitsu was walking down the hall, Dr. Matsuhara beside him.

"I got here just a few minutes ago," she said, standing. "There's a gentleman in there grieving. You were able to ID the victim and contact next of kin?"

Mitu and Dr. Matsuhara glanced at one another.

"No. We haven't gotten a positive identification of him yet," the doctor explained. Mitsu frowned, as did Joan. If he wasn't related to the victim, how had he found out about the autopsy?

Guns drawn, Mitsu burst through the door, Joan on his heels.

No longer leaning on the table, the man now reclined against the wall, his deep ruby eyes watching them with a spark of amusement. He had been difficult to see from the doorway, but now Joan could recognize his smug face.

"What the hell are you doing here, Nobu?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** I am so sorry everyone! It has been a very busy few months and I fell behind with getting this chapter out! I wanted to thank everyone who has favorited and followed this story so far. A special thanks to **NinaSkyLove** and your lovely review. I'm so happy you like it so far! For those who are waiting for the next chapter of Lost, don't worry, I'm still working on that. It just had to go through a bit of a...overhaul. But the next chapter is coming!

Thank you again for taking the time to read this. Please R&R! I love hearing from all of you!


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